A Very Frosty Christmas
by kapelka
Summary: It's Christmas time, but are the things as normal as they should be? What miracle does the camp need to save Hawkeye? I'm not good at summaries, the story is easier to understand than this, honestly  Rated T for blood and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry, I'm late for Christmas, but as the idea occured to me I couldn't resist it. Sorry for my language, I'm not a native speaker. I know that both my story can be dull and the language is poor, but I desperately need your appreciation, just a little... Please R&R and be kind. But comment some mistakes, I need to practice my English, and you are the best teachers for me now))))**

**This is the first chapter, please read and tell me what you think. If it may have the future life I will continue. If it doesn't deserve your appreciation... so be it. But I hope it does, at least a bit of it.)))**

**Enjoy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MASH, I don't get money, I'm just writing.**

**Thank you all for the feedbacks! Shame on me! Numerals is the first rule you learn when you study a language((( Concentrating on various grammatical constructions I completely forgot about them. Thanks a lot again! I tried to correct these VERY stupid mistakes.**

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**A Very Frosty Christmas**

**Chapter 1**

"Four oh double seven, Colonel Potter."

"Hello Colonel, it's me, Hawkeye." The old man cleared his throat and listened intently trying to catch the familiar voice through all the static.

"Ah Pierce, how're you doing? Aren't you done yet?"

"Yes I'm done, let me report you that all the wounded are under control, so are the nurses," Hawkeye chuckled "the replacement surgeon arrives this morning and now I'm free to go back."

"Good, we're waiting for you, the conference's tonight remember? So drive carefully please because we need you along with your money."

"Ah Colonel, you know that caution is my middle name."

"Very funny Pierce, I'm serious, the winter is really cold and the road is dangerously icy" said Potter.

"Don't worry Colonel, see you tonight." Hawkeye hung up.

Captain BJ Hunnicutt closed his eyes and inhaled the frozen air. The day was really good, much better than the previous one. The whole camp seemed to enjoy this, though frosty, but windless and quiet weather. For the first time of the last week the young surgeon felt the merriment of the approaching holidays fill his heart and mind. They've just finished a particularly long shift which appeared to be a great challenge without Hawkeye. BJ was tired of Colonel's constant grumblings that they were short-handed and it was definitely the wrong time to be so kind and spare their surgeon. Charles's comments were not any better, because the man considered the day to be lost without reminding everyone that without Pierce's stupid jokes he cost two good surgeons. The most precious moment was when, at the end of their 72nd hour of endless operations, Winchester finally admitted the prematurity of his former opinion. "I must confess Hunnicutt" he announced when he and BJ were alone in the Swamp "…that despite my outstanding skills, we still need Pierce here." BJ only smirked and didn't say anything, he was too tired.

The man woke up from his thought when he realized that he had subconsciously entered the main building and was now standing in front of his CO office. BJ knocked and entered without receiving the invitation.

"How are the things in the 8063rd?" he asked.

"He's coming back." said Potter.

"Excellent, I'll make the still ready to meet one of its masters" with a large grin BJ went back to his tent.

On the way to the Swamp BJ met corporal Klinger "Mail sir!" the Lebanese showed the envelopes in his hands.

"Thank you Klinger." said BJ taking his mail "anything else? I'm in a hurry I need to prepare the still, our boy is coming home."

"Good, Hawkeye is coming back, can you take his letter then?" said Klinger

"Why not?" The surgeon put a rather thick envelope with the Maine postmark on it into his pocket and continued on his way. He was not, however, destined to reach the Swamp because the PA system turned to life "Attention all personnel, incoming wounded a long shift folks, again."

"Damn it!" said BJ "I hoped that I could sleep till the end of the war."

The three surgeons hurried to the compound for the triage. "Go to the scrub room sons, I can handle this." said Potter. BJ and Charles nodded and went to the washing room.

"I wish Pierce come back soon, or we won't finish till the end of the month" said Charles taking off his jacket "besides, my fingers wouldn't move properly, I'm absolutely frozen!"

"Me too" said BJ "I feel like a snowman."

The surgeons were so exhausted, that they had seized to count the patients long before the mid afternoon.

"How are you doing boys?" asked the colonel.

"Fine Colonel" answered BJ "I feel better than my patient anyway."

"Good for you Hunnicutt, and my back is killing me." groaned Charles. "One day! Just one day!" he exclaimed afterwards "We'd had one day to catch our breaths before this hell began again!"

Nobody found the strength and also desire to respond.

"We're expecting another batch of wounded in several hours." said Potter.

"How long have we been here?" asked BJ. He didn't even notice how the bright and sunny day had been replaced by a pitchy dark night. "Why am I so naïve?" he thought "How could I expect peaceful Christmas holidays?"

Meanwhile, Margaret looked at the clock hanging above the door. "The wounded came at 8am and, if I'm not mistaken, it's almost 10pm now."

"We've been here for 12 hours, luckily, except yours Hunnicutt, we have only two patients left and both are minor cases." said Potter.

"I hope we'll take a couple of hours for a nap" murmured BJ. "Hawkeye was supposed to arrive 8 hours ago. I think he's peacefully sleeping in the Swamp now, so our next shift won't be such an ordeal." he finished happily.

"Amen" said Potter.

"And I think that Pierce had to help us here, we're all exhausted" yawed Charles.

"Oh shut up Winchester!" exclaimed Potter "Pierce had been working for a week without any rest at the 8063rd. He deserved a good long sleep." Charles didn't reply, but looked gloomily at his CO and turned back to his patient.

"Colonel, I'm afraid I need an assistance here", said BJ. "the boy is in a bad shape, I can't handle him alone." The surgeon tried desperately to stop a very severe bleeding, but it was not the only one, the kid's artery was like a sieve.

"Sorry son, I'm a bit busy right now, I need at least five minutes to finish here." said Potter. "what about you Winchester?" he asked.

"No Colonel, right now I'm in the middle of a resection" said Charles. "I think it's high time to wake our sleeping prince."

"You're right." answered Potter "Klinger, go and wake Pierce. We need him here" he said to the corporal.

"Right away sir" said the Lebanese.

When Klinger entered the tent, he found it absolutely empty, Hawkeye was not there. Trying to find the surgeon, the corporal searched the whole camp: the showers and the latrines, the officers' club and the mess tent. Captain Pierce was nowhere in sight.

Maxwell Klinger was placing a call to the 8063rd unit when Colonel Potter, Major Winchester and Captain Hunnicutt emerged from the surgery, still wearing their scrubs. The corporal noticed that BJ was actually shivering, his white gown was brightly red, so were Potter's and Winchester's. They seemed to be worried and very depressed. Potter carefully led Hunnicutt to Klinger's cot and settled him down wrapping a thin blanket round his shoulders.

"What are you doing Klinger?" asked Potter, his anger growing. "Where have you been? Where is Pierce? The kid died, we couldn't save him." he added more quietly. BJ put his hand on the old man's shoulder, Charles gave a nervous start and had seemed to collect himself before he showed his sympathy toward his tired colleagues. Having murmured that he had to be in the post-op, the man disappeared in the neighboring room.

"I'm very sorry sir that you didn't get the help in time." Klinger said ruefully.

"Never mind son, it's not your fault. And not yours!" he added after BJ's nervous sigh "The boy didn't have a chance, Hunnicutt, you did everything you could."

"I understand it Colonel, but it doesn't help me much." BJ said rubbing his face.

"I understand this also son, and order you to go to the shower and have your well-deserved rest after that." the older man said.

"Good idea sir," yawned the surgeon "but first I want to share a glass of gin with Hawkeye, I hope he got the still ready by now…" BJ's gaze fell upon Klinger, and his voice broke when he saw the corporal's worried face. "What happened Klinger? Where's Hawkeye?" he asked.

"Didn't he even drop in at the OR?" Klinger asked hopefully.

"He never appeared neither in the OR nor in the scrub-room" was Potter's brief reply, then the old man's eyes filled with horror "You want to say that…"

"…that I didn't find him, and nobody saw him returning to the camp or going somewhere or sleeping…" Klinger said. "I even called the nearest checkpoint and they swear that Captain Pierce never passed them." he concluded. "I was just about to call to the 8063rd when you entered."

"Go ahead son" said Potter. While Klinger was dialing Potter and BJ were just looking at the corporal, paralyzed with horror. After a brief conversation with the unit's company clerk, Klinger hang up and turned his eyes to the officers, his face blank and white.

"He…" the corporal paused to take a sigh "…left early in the morning."

BJ felt his legs give way, so he had to lean on the wall to keep himself steady and not to fall on his knees, he deeply regretted standing up from the cot.

"Easy son, it'll be okay" said Potter, patting BJ's shoulder.

"Inform the MPs, try to find out what might have happened." he addressed to Klinger.

"Yes sir." he answered.

"Come on son, let's have a drink." Potter led BJ to his office, "you need to calm down, I'm worried too, but I try not to lose control."

"I'm not worried, I'm scared Colonel." BJ said, taking the glass. The man couldn't even drink, his hands were shaking. His eyes passed the glass cabinet in the corner and rested on the wall behind Potter's desk. "You painted a new picture." he said simply.

Potter looked at his surgeon and didn't find any more words of comfort. Instead he just nodded "I finished it yesterday, couldn't sleep."

BJ raised his eyebrow. "After all those wounded?"

"It took only two hours, worked better than any sedative."

BJ forced a weak smile and continued staring into space. Potter couldn't take it anymore.

"I know it's tough son, but there's nothing we can do right now, just wait for the news from the MPs." Potter said.

"But what if it is too late?" the younger man's face was white with horror.

Potter looked at him with concern, he couldn't see one of his surgeons like this, finally he made a decision. "Let's distract you, go to the post-op and help Major Houlighan. I'll inform you as soon as the news come out."

BJ nodded and left the office. He didn't tell Margaret about Hawkeye's absence, he decided not to worry her without possessing the definite information. Margaret was busy organizing the transportation of the patients to Tokyo and the 121st hospital, and didn't notice BJ's odd behavior.

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**To be continued... **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much for your reviews and alerts! It means a lot to me! And thanks for your help, I corrected my mistake in the first chapter. The funny thing is, I knew both words quite well, but I confused these homophones anyway. I'm afraid I do it all the time)))**

**Well, let's pass to the next chapter) Please, read it and tell me about my mistakes. I have a feeling that I misused a LOT of words and phrases, though I tried to sound natural)))**

**I'm really nervous...**

**Now I think it's time for me to shut up and let you read it))) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except that guy Robinson)**

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**Chapter 2**

Colonel Sherman T. Potter has always considered himself to be a man of action. He survived two wars and never regretted joining the army. There were of course doubts, hard times, so called "pressure points", but no regrets. He didn't want to leave his young wife alone; he also didn't want their children to grow up without their father teaching them what is good and what is bad. He missed telling his daughter all he knew about relationships and then nervously waiting for his little girl to return from her first date. It was not that he didn't love his family enough that he preferred to be a war dog rather than a good father and husband, he just needed action. What's the point to be a family physician in a small town when you can save lives on the battlefield? As long as his mind and body were strong, he would help people, he would give these young boys the chance to live, to make somebody happy. Sherman hated inaction. But what was his greatest fear? Among all this senseless destruction, this maelstrom of shellfire, blood and screams, a used to be Sergeant Potter, now Colonel Potter, but most of all, Doctor Potter was afraid of being useless. "Useless… useless…useless" that was the exact word he has been repeating like a mantra since he discovered Hawkeye's absence. "Useless, useless, useless damn it!" he stopped his pacing at the sound of his own angry voice which seemed to have escaped more from his chest than mouth. There was a slight knocking behind the double doors.

"Colonel" Potter heard Klinger's voice "are you alright?"

"Yes Klinger, thank you." he answered. Klinger hesitated not knowing what to add and it nearly made Potter laugh out loud, sure the sight of Klinger suffering from lack of words was really priceless. Finally he decided to ease the tension and bring them both some coffee. "Keep watch son" he said to his company clerk "I'll be right back."

"Yes sir." said the corporal taking his place at his desk.

Once outside, Potter headed in the direction of the mess tent but stopped abruptly hearing his own name being called.

"Colonel Potter, Colonel!" a tall lieutenant swiftly ran up to the startled man. Potter frowned trying to recall him. The man was a pilot and he looked strangely familiar. Suddenly it dawned on him under which circumstances he had met the lieutenant for the first time. The memories began flooding his mind, but he pushed them aside.

"Yes, lieutenant… Robinson?"

"Yes sir." said Robinson panting "It's good I found you…" the man clutched his chest and began to shiver "I was about to go to yo…your office when I…" he paused again "when I spotted you."

"Hold your horses son." Potter put his hands on the pilot's shoulders attempting to steady him "Well, Robinson, what's the matter?"

"Colonel, I need to tell you…, it's urgent… I saw… sorry, I'm too tired…I've just landed…the jeep…I saw him…" The young man struggled to catch his breath, but this feat was too much for him.

"Slow down boy! You're hyperventilating. Come with me and we'll speak."

The pilot didn't say anything, he just nodded and let the Colonel take him to the post-op. Potter could feel Robinson's body tremble under his hands. Everything seemed so strange and surreal that Potter shook his head trying to clear his fogged brain, all in vain of course. This was the second time when he met this young pilot, and the memories from the first one were not happy at all… just one perhaps was… _Pierce and Robinson are in the post-op…Robinson isn't even trying to shed his tears, so also the smile…he's shaking Hawkeye's hand… then Robinson's getting into the ambulance bus…Robinson's helping the corpsmen to settle the stretcher..._ Potter woke from his thoughts when they finally reached the post-op.

The ward was quiet; the only sound was from the rustling of the papers BJ was filling in. Potter surveyed the room and his gaze fell on Margaret Houligan who immediately hurried to Robinson's side and helped the Colonel to settle the man on an empty cot. After that she handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you Major." said Potter.

"You are welcome sir. Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"No, just get Klinger to come here, and tell Hunnicutt also." he answered nodding in the direction of the surgeon.

"Yes Colonel." Margaret turned to the desk at the other end of the room, but she didn't even need to approach BJ because he was already standing up.

"What is it Margaret?" he whispered into her ear while Potter was forcing Robinson to drink.

"I don't know, it seems the Colonel needs your help, he also asked to fetch Klinger. Go and ask him yourself and I'll be right back." With these words she left the room.

"What's up sir?" BJ he asked the older man.

"I don't know son," said Potter quietly "Robinson said he had to tell us something and it was urgent, but then his nerves apparently let him down."

"I see, but why did you call for Klinger?" BJ looked at his CO with concern.

Potter looked at Robinson, whose breathing was much calmer than several minutes before. It was no use to hide it from Hunnicutt since the information was about to come out anyway.

"Do you know that a month ago Hawkeye saved his younger brother?" he asked BJ at last.

"No Colonel. I must have been in Seoul." he answered.

"Ah, yes… well, his injury was serious, but the boy pulled through. Hawkeye worked really well." said Potter.

"He always does." BJ nodded.

"Yes, he always does… and Robinson couldn't find the words to thank Hawkeye; the poor man was head over heels with worry… The guy is too sensitive I'm afraid." Potter paused "Do you understand the cause of my concern now?"

"I understand…you mean…" BJ murmured.

"It was my first guess, look here..." Potter leaned closer to the younger surgeon. "Robinson said that he owned Pierce and he'd told me before I brought him here that he'd seen a jeep. I'm sure the man could snap like this because of Hawk…" Potter was cut short by the arrival of his head nurse and his company clerk.

"Did you call for me sir?" asked the Lebanese corporal.

"Yes guys, I just hope that this is not what I think and fear of…" Potter didn't finish but turned to Robinson. "How do you feel son?" he asked.

"Better Colonel." the pilot answered. His gaze fell onto the people surrounding him and he began to sob.

"It's all my fault, I shouldn't have lost control… I should have done it fast… I should have done something else… I should have not wasted so much time…" Potter shook the man's shoulders. "If you don't want to waste more time, try to calm down and tell us everything."

Robinson took a deep breath, and passed his gaze to the silent listeners: "On my way here I saw an overturned jeep. That area was under heavy shelling so my first thought was that the driver had little chance to be alive, but… then I recognized that driver…"

"…Pierce" whispered Potter.

Robinson nodded: "My heart sank, I was about to report to you, but saw that the radio, and not only the radio, also my chopper…" he shuddered "I haven't checked it yet and don't know what might have happened. My radio was out of order and I began to lose altitude too, I was of no use for him at that moment. I managed to get a bit farther and find a space to land. The area was deserted and I had to run to the camp to tell you…" he finished without even trying to complete the sentence.

The stillness that had filled the room was unbearable but finally Potter managed to find his voice. "Klinger" he said "take a jeep, bring him here."

"Colonel, what if he is still alive?" asked BJ desperately trying to keep his own voice calm.

"Son, I don't want to disappoint you, but we must be realistic…" began Potter.

"You don't want to say so sir." said Margaret.

"You're right Major, but I am the CO here…"

"I'm sure that Hawk is alive," BJ interrupted the old man "he MUST be alive, and I'm going with Klinger. Why are you still here? Get the jeep for us" he addressed to the Corporal.

"Going captain!" shouted Klinger already leaving the post-op.

Potter stayed with Robinson to check him over while BJ and Margaret were gathering the supplies. At the end of the examination he was satisfied. The man's pulse was steady and the blood pressure was normal.

"You must sleep." he said hiding his stethoscope.

"Colonel, I want to do something…"

"No son, you are exhausted right now, you must rest." said Potter.

"But…"

"We'll inform you whatever happens to Pierce, son, now be a good boy and lie down." Having received a nod from the lieutenant, Potter went to see BJ and Klinger off.

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**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here I am at last! Sorry, but I had to take some extra work because I need money... Well, I'm afraid it slows me, that's why my update took longer than usual, the same will be with my future updates also. But I won't give up writing and finish the story by all means, no matter how long it will take.**

**Frankly speaking, I'm not satisfied with this chapter at all. It's weaker I think, but I'll correct my mistakes if I find some and please if you find something strange, let me know)))**

**You still can enjoy it anyway))))**

**Disclaimer: I own the whole MASH unit... on DVDs, but not the characters! They are not mine.**

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**Chapter 3 **

"I'm ready Colonel, the jeep is filled." Klinger took his place at the wheel, tucking a spare jerry can under his seat.

Potter only nodded. The corporal looked at his CO and had nearly suppressed a sympathetic sigh before Potter could notice anything. And it was obviously an understatement, as the old man would overlook an explosion if something blew up two paces away from him. Klinger didn't recall seeing the man in such a condition. Their fearless leader was tough and strong and seemed able to endure everything. "Haven't we just discovered Potter's limits?" the Lebanese thought desperately wishing it not to be true.

Meanwhile BJ and Margaret rushed to the jeep carrying some blankets and medical supplies. BJ immediately took his place near Klinger. "Let's go" he said. Klinger started the engine.

The sharp roar of the jeep startled Potter and the man found his voice, though his tongue still wouldn't work properly.

"Boys… please…"

"We'll be careful colonel." said Klinger predicting the older man's words. Potter blinked and managed a sad smile.

"And… try not to catch a cold, you're sure you're dressed properly for such weather?" Margaret asked frowning slightly.

"Yes major, I have my fur underwear."

"Klinger!"

"Sorry Major…" the corporal's smirk froze at the angry remark from BJ.

"Don't want to interrupt this friendly chat but let's move!" The last part of his speech the surgeon practically shouted making all his colleagues jump, though the shock from such a burst of emotions produced a live-giving effect on the Colonel. His dazed state was over and he felt ready to take command.

"Easy Hunnicutt," said Potter firmly "you won't help him if you're not able to control your own emotions."

BJ looked directly in his CO's eyes and everyone shuddered at the haunted gaze the surgeon had given him. The Colonel, however, didn't avert his eyes but looked back sternly with all the authority he could muster. The effect was immediate, BJ's expression grew calmer and also his tone.

"Yes sir, I know…" he said quietly "I'm fine Colonel." he added. Potter looked at him skeptically but spared the comment.

"Report to us immediately, we'll be ready… to anything." he said at last.

"Yes sir." said Klinger pressing the accelerator.

Potter and Margaret exchanged glances, the real thoughts about the "everything will be fine" thing hidden securely in their minds. The chances for Hawkeye's survival were slim, but nobody wanted to voice this and nobody wanted to face it, so they stood silently watching the jeep getting smaller and soon disappearing behind a hill.

Finally the Colonel sighed, rubbed his eyes and turned to Margaret.

"Go find Winchester, tell him all about it and get prepared for the possible surgery…" he paused "then take the post op for some time, I'll cover you soon."

"Yes sir." said Margaret and, without further comments, went to the ward.

Potter sighed again and decided to return to his office and finish his paper work, and perhaps a bottle of whiskey. "Everything will be fine, Pierce is alive and he must be alive." What can be done to make these words come true? The only thing he could accomplish at that moment was to hope and believe. "Hope, I'm too old for this" he muttered, raising his eyes to the sky and trying to predict the weather. It was getting darker every minute and the Colonel's first thought was that they had missed the whole day. That horrible night just ended and the sun should have risen by that time. What was the time? He consulted his watch to find the shorter hand on 7 and the longer one on 12. Seven o'clock. Where's the sun then? Feeling this dilemma too difficult for his tired brain at the moment he made his way to the main building.

The cold was gradually filling all his senses. His head was already dumb, and not just his head, but also his brain. All the thoughts were put aside, replaced by his body's violent reaction to this freezing stream. Next was his neck then his shoulders, he began to shiver violently as soon as the first drop had touched his skin. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, his whole body stopped shaking as the numbness had overwhelmed him. "Where's the damn hot water?" his teeth gritted. "I don't want to catch pneumonia. Ah, here you are!" he felt the blessing warmth spread through his torso and limbs reaching the very tips of his fingers and toes. What a strange feeling it was, feeling cold and hot at the same time. "Despite all the disgust that I have in stock and certainly feel towards cold, I assume that it's quite effective." he thought. Before he warmed up, the cold water had managed to clear his head, though his body seemed to have another opinion on the matter. Besides his terrible headache, he was greeted by sickness, which was not a surprise regarding the amount of the alcohol he had drunk.

"Winchester! Are you in there?" Margaret's voice was accompanied with the urgent knocking. Charles immediately felt sick, more than ever and his brain suddenly refused to work properly, "Oh not again…" he moaned.

"Winchester!" Charles opened his eyes and saw Major Houligan, face twisted with anger and hands on her hips, standing right in front of him.

"Major, what are you doing? Can't you see I'm not dressed?"

"I must tell you something and it can't wait."

What can't wait? Does it have anything to do with Pierce? Winchester also lost a patient that night. When the corpsmen wheeled that young man, Charles understood immediately that the boy wouldn't survive the operation. As always the doctor was right and the young soldier died in a minute. "Sometimes I don't want to be right" the surgeon thought at that moment. The orderlies who had not left yet swiftly wheeled the dead man away and the other doctors didn't even notice this, as they all had their own problems to occupy their minds. So, nothing was left and less than in a minute nothing remained of a young boy who had just died on the operating table, in front of the surgeon who didn't have a chance to save him. At the very end of the session BJ started calling for help, and his patient also died. Then they discovered Pierce's absence. This was the last drop. After quick check of the wounded, Winchester went straight to the Swamp, opened a bottle of French cognac and turned on his record player. Classical music and the soothing effect of this precious liquid – that was what he needed. If only he knew what a hangover was to come at the morning…

"Winchester! Aren't you listening?"

"Major, please can you be more quiet? I'm afraid my mind can't endure your tirade right now." Charles Emerson Winchester murmured trying to focus his gaze on the enraged woman.

"Your what? Your mind!" Margaret couldn't control her emotions any more "Now, listen to me you bustard! If you don't wake up from whatever peaceful slumber you are in right now, I can guarantee that your precious mind won't recover for weeks!" she shouted.

The man jumped at the woman's outburst of anger and looked at her with the mixed feeling of fear and confusion.

"What do you want from me Major?" he asked at last "I've been asleep for 3 hours, and I need this morning shower, so would you be so kind to give me some privacy?"

The sarcastic tone threw Margaret off balance. She opened her mouth ready to tell Winchester all she thought about him and perhaps some punches would be a perfect contribution as well... Suddenly she heard a polite coughing. She turned around to see Father Mulcahy standing in the doorway. "Major, your lovely and melodic voice is heard, I think, in the States, what's the matter anyway?" he chuckled at his joke passing his gaze on Winchester.

"Major Houlighan bursts into the showers, shouts at me, and when I ask her why I'm honored to listen to her when all I want is to take shower, get dressed and drink a cup of strong coffee, no matter that the notions 4077th and coffee are antonyms, and this woman snaps at me."

Seeing Margaret on the verge of a breakdown, Mulcahy put his hand on her shoulder and carefully led the woman to the bench standing along the wall. "Major please calm down, there is no use to shatter your nervous system."

"Thank you Father." she whispered, ashamed of her behavior.

"Now Major Winchester, get dressed, because, judging by Major Houlihan's state and actions, it's not difficult to deduce that the case is really serious." said Mulcahy as calmly as he could.

"I'll do it if the Majour closes her eyes," said Charles finally "I'm not used to show my nudity to the woman I don't have relations with, I'm not Pierce."

The occasional mention of Hawkeye's name inflamed Margaret's temper again "It's because of Pierce I came here!"

"What do you mean?" asked Charles forgetting about his pompous manner.

"Pierce got caught by the shell fire on the way to the camp, at least we think so." said Margaret slightly surprised of her calm tone.

"What?" the question didn't come Charles's mouth, but Mulcahy's. The priest paled and nervously clutched the cross hanging on his neck. The man was obviously terrified by the news; he looked at Charles who seemed to be unaware that his mouth was wide open.

"As I've been telling you" continued Margaret "Pierce…" she rubbed her eyes, which were already red "we don't know whether he is alive, this… accident was in the morning and we found out about it only half an hour ago."

"How did you find out?" asked Charles, pulling up his pants and reaching for the shirt. Winchester didn't notice how he had got dressed and how he had made himself leave the cover of the shower booth, grab his towel and begin putting on his clothes.

"The pilot, Robinson, Stanley Robinson saw him." said Margaret "he had no opportunity to pick him up, his chopper was out of order" she looked at the priest "Farther" she said "Can you take care of the man, he's definitely in shock. On my way here I dropped on in the post-op and gave him the sedative because he apparently was unable to fall asleep himself."

"Don't worry Major I'll speak to him as soon as he wakes up but should I know anything about the guy before I go to him?" asked Mulcahy, concern in his eyes, "I suppose that Robinson saw many wounded soldiers...what?"

"Pierce saved his younger brother not long ago," both Margaret and Mulcahy turned to the speaking Charles "the man thinks he owns him…"

"…and today he couldn't do anything to save him." finished Margaret, nodding.

"I see…" muttered Mulcahy his hand squeezing his cross "I see, I see…" he smiled "I'll take care of the man and you take care of Hawkeye Majors." after these words the priest went out of the tent.

Margaret and Winchester were left alone. "I must go and prepare everything for the surgery." she said turning to Charles "How is your mind your majesty?" she asked sarcastically "Is it strong enough for what's coming?"

"Yes it is Major!" Winchester snapped. "Now go please to the OR and I'll join you there in ten minutes, after I drink a cup of coffee." he added more calmly. Margaret was caught off guard by the concern which sounded quite distinctly in the man's voice.

"No, I and my nurses can handle everything by ourselves," she answered "you go to the post-op, and if Potter is there, persuade him to get some rest, he needs it." Having received an approving nod from Charles she went to fulfill her duties. Little did she know that as soon as she closed the door behind her, Winchester's eyes grew moist.

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**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello Everyone! Here's the next chapter to the story. I had some difficulties with it, as I'm not a doctor. I consulted my friend, who, as you may guess, is a physician, and she gave me some advises. If some of you notice the things that can't be true, please let me know. The same goes with my next chapters, because they'll always contain such things.**

**Please Please Please Review! I need to know if it's readable or not)))**

**Disclaimer: Don't own MASH, don't get money.**

**Enjoy!**

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****Chapter 4**

The climate in Korea was not an easy thing to get used to. Springs and autumns were bearable at least, but during summer and winter times, however, the whole MASH unit was desperately looking for a place to hide either from the smothering heat or freezing cold. Some of them wouldn't stop their complaints about the surprises the weather presented them with, the others tried to turn it into a joke. And, in Klinger's opinion, it was definitely the best way. This unbeatable sense of humor always helped them to feel a bit colder in summer and a bit warmer in winter, which was the most dangerous time of the year.

This very winter was not an exception, and the Christmas holidays this year were probably the worst. But for the temperature, which was lower than ever, the whole week was accompanied with the most piercing wind, the thickest coat couldn't save you from. The MASH inhabitants' shifts were rough. Many of their patients risked to lose their limbs if they hadn't got the necessary medical treatment in time. Fortunately, the doctors haven't found the amputations to be the only option for rather a long period of time and Klinger only hoped that this period would prolong, but he was not sure of it at all. The endless stream of wounded seemed to drain the powers of the hospital personnel completely. After a very short break the things became even worse. Not only they were exhausted, which was a common thing considering the conditions they always worked under, it was the threat of losing their friend and even the reminder of it could shatter the spirits of the whole unit. As if to please this atmosphere of constant angst and despair, the weather had spoiled before they even noticed the change.

"Why is it so dark? I can't see anything an inch from my nose."

"I wouldn't worry about it Klinger, the distance isn't short at all." said BJ shivering.

"And I'm proud of it!" the Corporal exclaimed cheerfully. He looked at the Captain but the latter didn't say anything else and only nodded. Klinger wanted to extract more words from the surgeon, but then he thought better of it. BJ apparently needed time and space to keep his emotions at bay, but still, the silence was unbearable. For the first time during this damn war or, as they call it, "police action" the Lebanese saw his comrades so scared. The camp was occasionally bombed, attacked by a sniper, they also had to bug out several times, but never did such terror overwhelm his friends. Deprived of any information about Hawkeye's fate, they didn't know what to do and imagined the most horrible things that could have happened to him. "For how long have they been driving?" Klinger thought trying to distract himself from the horror he had been supplied with by his own "kind" imagination. Suddenly, through the gray midst of the already late morning, he recognized the vague outlines of the overturned army jeep.

"Captain, I think I see the jeep straight ahead." Klinger narrowed his eyes.

BJ woke from his painful thoughts and tried to focus on the far away object the Corporal was pointing at.

As they were approaching the place of the accident the whole picture grew bigger and bigger allowing the two men see everything in detail.

"I see Hawkeye sir!" cried Klinger in a couple of minutes. Once in their field of view, a horrible scene met the comrades' eyes. Without waiting for the jeep to stop, BJ jumped out of it and sprinted to the prone form of his best friend. Having pressed the breaks Klinger followed BJ who had already been several steps ahead. What they saw paralyzed them: Hawkeye was pale, and his skin looked whiter than the snow, covering his body, and, as if in contrast to this whiteness, a pool of blood was beneath him, dark red and frozen. "My God!" gasped Klinger. BJ didn't even manage to open his mouth to say something and his lips were still trembling when he finally bent over his fallen friend. The surgeon quickly placed his fingers on his Hawkeye's carotid artery praying to find the pulse. After what looked like an eternity he felt a fragile beat. BJ let out a sigh he didn't realize he had been holding, but his relief was short-lived as the Doctor inside him had quickly noticed the fact, that Hawkeye's pulse, though there, was very weak and thready.

"Fetch the stretcher Klinger, he's still alive!" he cried.

After putting Hawkeye on the stretcher, loading it onto the jeep and covering Pierce with one of the blankets, BJ continued the examination.

"It's a miracle, but the limbs are not frostbitten." BJ whispered probing the man's arms and legs.

The miracle, however, ended when Hunnicutt passed to the chest. It appeared that the chest wound was the main cause of all the blood which had successfully escaped Hawkeye's body.

"Is the wound serious?" asked Klinger.

"I think so, it's deep and stuck with shrapnel, I also suspect that his ribs are broken." the Captain murmured without lifting his head.

Not knowing what else to ask, Klinger observed the whole scene, taking in every detail and trying to deduce what had happened. He saw the crater which had been created by nothing but the shell, and the place where it hit was just near the ruined jeep. The impact was so strong that, after having been "granted" with the shell fragments, Hawkeye was thrown several paces from the scene of the accident and landed on the hard icy ground breaking his ribs. This turn of events definitely saved the Captain's life, otherwise, instead of their friend, they would find only his burnt body parts. Klinger shuddered and immediately felt sick as soon the dreadful possibility crossed his mind. Pushing the unhappy option, which, by a sheer luck, had appeared not to be true, aside, he hurried back to BJ.

"Captain, will he pull through?" he asked at last, hope and doubt in his eyes.

"I…don't know yet, and we can't waste more time," BJ got into the jeep next to the stretcher. "let's go back!"

"On my way sir!" cried Klinger pressing the accelerator. With a sharp roar, the jeep took off. Having checked the safety belts for the third time, BJ grabbed the cb-radio.

"BJ Hunnicutt calls 4077th. BJ Hunnicutt calls MASH 4077th! Answer colonel!" he shouted, not willing to take his eyes of Hawkeye. At last, he heard Potter's voice.

"MASH 4077th, speak Hunnicutt."

"We found him Colonel, he's badly wounded," said BJ rather calmly "we'll come soon, hope he'll make it to the camp." The was a short pause, accompanied with what sounded like a sob, but then Potter found his voice.

"We'll be ready son, take him here on the double!" the Colonel hung up.

"Are you serious sir?" asked Klinger "Do you seriously think that he may not make it to the camp?" The Corporal didn't know why he had asked this question, but the words had burst out of him before he succeeded in holding them.

BJ nodded "He's trouble breathing, I'm afraid it's all due to the rib damage. The blood loss almost reached the fatal point and there's lot shrapnel in his chest, I think some of the fragments are just near his heart."

At these words Klinger pressed the accelerator even harder. The only sound in the air was from the engine and the wind, blowing right into their ears. But there was something else and it was not the wind. It was a groan, a groan of pain. BJ couldn't believe what he was seeing. Hawkeye moved his head and his eyes slowly opened. In some kind of stupor he stared at his best friend, who opened his mouth apparently trying to say something, although the only sound he could produce was an awful stertor but BJ distinguished something like "Beej".

"It's me Hawk, don't speak, you've got a ton of shrapnel in your chest."

Hawkeye seemed to understand as he simply looked at his buddy. When their eyes met, BJ saw that his friend's piercing blue eyes lacked their usual sparkle, they were strangely empty, almost dead. "My best friend is dying and I can't do anything else for him before we reach the camp!" he thought desperately. "You won't die." BJ whispered mostly to himself than to Hawkeye. The latter blinked in understanding and then his eyes closed. For a couple of minutes he was calm, but then, suddenly his whole body gave a violent start, followed by shivers and grasping for air. To his horror BJ realized that Hawkeye was suffocating.

"Klinger! Stop the jeep! Quick!"

The corporal obeyed without unnecessary questions.

"What's going on Captain?" he asked.

"That's what I'm going to find out!" BJ answered fervently, unwrapping Hawkeye from the blankets and unbuttoning his shirt for the second time in the last hour.

The pressure to Pierce's chest, caused by the broken ribs along with the shell fragments deep in the wound and of course, their crazy ride, were enough for the pneumothorax to begin, determined to kill its prey. There was only one way to save the lung and let the air pass properly.

"I need my bag" said BJ in panic, "find the alcohol, a sponge and hand me a big syringe."

BJ didn't know what to expect when he was packing his medical bag. His almost two years' experience in field surgery taught him to be prepared for everything, especially when you were dealing with chest wounds. Chests were mostly Hawkeye's area, but Hunnucutt was a good apprentice and soon he also could handle such operations quite well. It became a rule then, that every time BJ or Hawkeye go somewhere to practice their field surgery, they take the biggest syringe they can find. They don't even have to look for them, though, because they keep them in stock exactly for these reasons.

Klinger did everything he had been asked to do. The corporal helped the captain to disinfect Hawkeye's chest and was ready to pass the sponge and bandages any time. Suddenly BJ's hand began to shake like he was freezing over. The wind was really very cold, but it was not the reason. "I can't do it! This is Hawkeye for God's sake!" he thought, his hand hung in midair. It was his friend, his best friend, not just a faceless soldier. How could he puncture his friend?

"Captain, why are you hesitating?" asked the confused Corporal. BJ made a nervous start and tried to pull himself together.

"Captain, calm yourself, you must help Hawkeye or he's doomed!" Klinger looked at BJ and seemed to read his thoughts. "Captain" he said trying to find the words "you aren't hurting Hawkeye, you're saving him. Your actions won't do him any harm."

BJ nodded and felt a little better. He pressed the tip of the needle to his best friend's cold skin, praying that it was the right thing to do.

The two men sighed in relief when Hawkeye began to breath, he didn't though regain consciousness. Having finished with the procedure, Klinger started the engine again and drove to the camp at the neck-breaking speed. Safe for the weak pulse and subtle breathing Hawkeye looked like a corps, and this image was surely to haunt the Lebanese Corporal forever.

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**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy St. Valentine's Day Everyone!**

**I hate being delayed, but I have lots of things to do... you know, right now I definitely share Hawkeye's desperate wish to find an intelligent octopus)))**

**Sorry if this chapter is worse, as I really didn't have much time for it, but I published it, because I needed at least one thing from my list to be done almost in time)))**

**Enjoy anyway :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, just write.**

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**Chapter 5 **

"Where are the gloves? Why nobody cared to bring them from the supply tent?"

"Sorry Major, my fault." Kellye answered ashamed of her absent-mindedness, "I can fetch them right now…"

"No, never mind," Margaret cut her off "I can do it myself. Continue on sterilizing the equipment!"

"Yes Major." answered Kellye giving the head nurse an understanding look. Such behavior, though strange for the Major, was quite normal considering the circumstances.

Major Houligan caught the nurse early in the morning when the poor thing was just on her way to the mess tent. After a weak attempt to question the Major about the reason of all this commotion and not receiving a direct answer, Kellye was practically dragged to the OR and was ordered to prepare everything for the surgery.

After what looked like an hour of collecting some clean sheets, towels and basins, Kellye tried to get the truth out of the distressed Major again. The front was strong but soon it fell under the nurse's bombardment. When she finally discovered the answer however, she immediately wished she wouldn't have asked. The words "Pierce came under shellfire on his way to the camp" still echoed in her head. With a heavy heart the lieutenant understood why she had been brought to work as if cornered by the secret service. The most obvious reason which would come to anyone's mind sounds like this: "the head nurse doesn't want the rumors to spread throughout the camp unless they are not supported by definite and solid facts." Kellye was sure that this very theory suited Major Houligan, but not Margaret Houligan. The reason why Margaret Houligan kept the morning event dark was sad and simple: "She just can't find the strength to speak about it, neither to deal with the questions she doesn't know the answers to".

Margaret strode out of the OR with as much dignity as she could muster at that moment, afraid of her emotions go completely out of hand. Feeling the characteristic burning in her eyes she almost broke into running in her seek of the shelter which was meant to shed her from the others and provide her with the space to cool down. "At last" she gasped shutting the door behind her. The storeroom was completely dark, the ideal atmosphere for the imagination to start playing tricks with its master. Margaret's imagination was not a novice in such things at all, so willingly it got to work… _Though not very large in reality, the room looked like a huge warehouse with the rows of shelves not just big, but enormous, towering above the small woman, who had dared visiting this sacred place. _

Margaret made several steps, carefully, not wishing to disturb the silence and the soothing effect it has often been producing on her nerves. It was not a difficult task to locate the right shelf, even if the lights were off. The Major could probably find whatever she needed in this room with her eyes closed and hands securely tied behind her back. As soon as her hands closed around an unpacked box of gloves, the whole illusion somehow broke. Margaret suddenly realized that she was not in an ancient warehouse full of unique and precious artifacts, but in a rather small tent filled with medicines and the other army stuff. Her escape from reality was not meant to last long as the waves of shock and despair crashed over her making her heart cramp at a single thought of what was coming. What if Pierce dies? What if he's already dead? Potter told her that Hunnicutt and Klinger had found Pierce alive, but his expression told her more about the condition they were to receive the patient in. Since her break off with Frank and her later divorce with Donald Pierce has become her real friend, who could always find the ways to her deep fears and emotions. He sincerely cared for her and meant it saying about his willingness to help. The recollections of such moments flooded her memory filling all her body with a pleasant warm feeling. Then, as if a sudden blow of the icy wind, Potter's terrified face came to her mind, obliterating all her hopes to see Pierce alive any time soon. It took her a couple of minutes to realize that the wind had not been the fragment of her imagination. Someone had entered the tent before she noticed it.

"Major!" Kellye's voice carried to her through the darkness.

"I'm here!" she called back wiping her wet eyes.

Trying to find the head nurse, Kellye might have bumped into something because the next sound Margaret recognized was a thud followed by a surprised "Why didn't you turn on the light, Major? I can't see a thing."

Ignoring the question Margaret swiftly made her way to the entrance door grabbing two more boxes of gloves and one of adrenalin on her way.

"What is it?"

Kellye flushed feeling like an intruder. "Oh, I just wanted to help you… carry the supplies…" Both women knew perfectly well that it had been a feeble attempt to hide the true reason of the nurse's presence as several boxes of gloves were surely not the heaviest load in the world. Margaret smiled at the younger woman's embarrassment patting her shoulder.

"I'm fine lieutenant." she said warmly.

"It's… good Major… I think I'm to go…" Kellye didn't have a chance to finish her phrase because the last words had been muffled by a loud honk.

"They're here!" Margaret gasped while the last bit of color drained from her face. Her shock didn't last long though, "Take it all to the OR!" she said passing the boxes she had been holding to Kellye, who obeyed her order immediately.

When Klinger pulled up just near the pre-op he and BJ saw that the honk had already attracted Colonel Potter, Father Mulcahy and Major Houligan to the spot.

BJ saw them exchange their glances, approach the back of the jeep and lower their gazes on the unconscious man. Potter silently came up to the stretcher to check on his chief surgeon. "I don't like his breathing." he said pressing his fingers to the pulse point on Pierce's neck at the same time lifting his eyelids to examine the pupils. Not feeling the need to mention the frightening pallor of his skin either, this very fact had apparently escaped nobody's attention, Potter quickly uncovered Hawkeye to get a closer look on his wound. "Pneumothorax I guess?" he asked "the wound is on the left side… ah the ribs… that must be the cause." The Colonel put the blanket back thinking of getting Hawkeye inside immediately. He tried to show BJ his next intention, but the latter didn't give any comments, the man looked uncomfortable, definitely in shock.

"Hunnicutt! Are you with us?"

BJ nearly jumped at his CO's commanding tone.

"Yeah, sorry Colonel" he said breathing heavily, as if he'd just finished a marathon.

Potter couldn't stand seeing his surgeon in such a miserable state. "I need to talk to him" he thought desperately trying to pull himself together.

"Get him prepped on the double!" he practically shouted to the others.

Margaret, Mulcahy and Klinger started as if recovering from the shock and stupor the whole situation had put them in. Klinger and Father Mulcahy quickly took the stretcher and carried it inside. Margaret hesitated. She definitely wanted to help and comfort BJ, but, as Potter guessed, she also couldn't cope with her own emotions. "Go major, get him prepped." The Colonel said his tone calm but stern and authoritative.

"But…" unable to find the words "she glanced nervously at BJ. "I don't know what is whiter, he or the snow on the ground" Margaret whispered at last, horror in her eyes.

"Margaret," he put his hand on her shoulder, "he'll be okay…they both will be okay…" his eyes fell on BJ too, who, obviously trying to avoid their gazes, began rummaging in his bag.

"Please Margaret," said Potter gently taking her hand in his, "go," he smiled, "switch on your Major mode and take command over the process, I'm sure you can do it."

"Yes sir" she whispered returning the smile and hurried to join the others.

Once alone with his CO, BJ felt a sudden chill spread through his body sending shivers down his spine.

It was Potter who decided to break the silence, "BJ…"

"It's…bad Colonel" said BJ quietly "chest wound, cracked ribs, luckily his limbs are not frost-bitten, but anyway he's too cold, we had to get him from a large frozen pool of blood beneath him."

"I see…" was the only thing Potter managed to say, then his face tensed as he again took control over the situation. "Winchester is scrubbing up, what role are YOU going to play?" he said putting more emphasis on the pronoun and looking at the younger man with concern.

BJ clutched his bag so tightly that his knuckles had turned white "No!" he shouted, "I must operate on Hawkeye!" he was about to dash to the scrub room when his legs suddenly gave way and he'd have collapsed haven't Potter steadied him.

"Easy son." said the Colonel making BJ sit down.

"Sorry Colonel, but I can't…"

"Can't what?" Potter cut in.

Fearing that his voice would betray him, BJ just shrugged his shoulders. What was the matter anyway? Winchester was a good surgeon, but he, BJ Hunnicutt was Hawkeye's best friend after all. It was up to BJ to take care of the man who was so special to him since their first meeting.

Potter studied his surgeon carefully, taking in both his movements and the way he tried to hide his emotions. Only a blind man couldn't see that the man sank in his fear.

"Ready for a talk son?" he asked.

"What?" BJ shuddered at his CO's voice "Oh, no thank you Colonel, I'm quite fine. Let's hurry to the post-op, we're losing our time."

"Hold your horses son, we need to talk"

"Colonel! In case you didn't notice, Hawk is dying up there… right now!" he stood up but Potter caught him by the shoulders.

"Now listen to me Hunnicutt! I did notice that one of my men, my friend is dying. He means a lot to me, he's like a son I've always dreamed to have!" Potter was losing his patience, every second was at stake. "What I want to say is that you must calm down or you'll faint right here."

"Okay Colonel, I'm calm, now can we go to the OR? I must help my best friend."

"You are not fit to operate, look at your hands!" Potter almost shouted

Absolutely taken aback, BJ obeyed "Damn it!" he muttered seeing how violent the tremor was.

Potter didn't comment on his surgeon's words, "Let it all out son" he said quietly, "Pierce is in good hands and I need you to stay with us, along with Pierce's life we can't afford to lose also your mind."

"I'm scared Colonel," BJ whispered "he's my best friend, I can't imagine my life here without his constant stunts, his complaints about the food, his flirting with nurses, his support."

Potter smiled in understanding.

"When we found him today… deadly pale and covered with snow, I thought that he was dead. I didn't want to believe my eyes and I felt as if the whole world shattered, blew up in an instant."

"Go on son."

"Well… I was so relieved when I discovered that Hawk was still alive, and I had the chance to save him. But then this thing happened…"

"His lung…"

"Yes Colonel. I realized that being so happy about him being alive, I had forgotten about his ribs."

"This is not your fault son" said Potter

"Well, I had to do it or he would have died right there…" he began to sob "and I couldn't stab him with this syringe… I was afraid to hurt him."

"It's normal son, Pierce is your friend, and you're only a human."

"But I am also a surgeon!" BJ cried tears streaming from his eyes, "My best friend is dying and I'm not fit to help him!"

"Hunnicutt! Listen to me! This is absolutely natural, there's nothing wrong with you." Potter got up "Besides, what isn't Hawkeye's life the more important than your pride?"

"My what? It's not because…"

"I know son, it's because you care for him. You're a doctor BJ, a damn good doctor, it's enough. Don't try to play God, you're a human, a human who needs to calm himself and be professional."

"I am a professional Colonel…"

"And, as a professional, what would you tell me if I were in your place?"

BJ sighed, "the same things, every word." he whispered.

"Good to see you back to normal." Potter smiled though a bit sadly, "And now, let's go to the OR. We surely can be of use there."

"But…"

"You'll be the anesthesiologist." Potter said quickly predicting BJ's words.

"I can operate sir, I feel much better now." BJ wanted to argue, to say perhaps that it was up to him to operate on Hawkeye, but looking into his CO's eyes he had to admit, that the Colonel was right.

"Let's go." he said at last

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**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts! They mean a lot to me!**

**I'm really sorry that it takes so long for me to update, but I can't help it. Every single day, as well as my head, is stuffed with my studies, my work, my family etc… but again, I'm optimistic, and I won't give up! I just need your support and appreciation))) I'm worried, however, about some words and grammatical constructions in the chapter, I think I misused some of them.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Winchester, the way I see him in the show. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, neither MASH, nor the characters!**

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**Chapter 6**

For the second time of the last few hours Winchester's fingers were growing numb. "I must have been cursed this morning! What happened with the damn water? Why is it always cold whenever I need to use it?" He quickly finished soaping his hands and passed to his arms, feeling as if he had been stabbed by dozens of sharp needles. It was time to wash his face now, and a single thought of this option made him start with disgust. Pushing the annoying feeling aside, the poor Major finally let the freezing water touch his cheeks and forehead. Both of his lungs seemed to have been blocked leaving their owner no choice but to grasp for air. Having regained the normal breathing at last, Charles continued on his scrubbing. There was no alternative; he couldn't afford losing more time on looking for somebody to fix the problem, because every minute was at stake.

Winchester managed to take a look at Pierce when he had been brought to the pre-op, and it was just enough to judge on his condition. There was no need to be a high qualified surgeon to see that it was critical. "Every minute wasted, every delay may be fatal right now." he thought grimly. Washing the soap off his face sent fresh shudders which had racked through his entire body from head to feet.

He closed the tabs at last and stood upright. Sudden dizziness, caused by nothing than the damn cold water, made his legs go way. It took the man quite an effort to keep his balance and not touch the wall with his now and still sterile hands. "I won't endure one more scrubbing in such conditions." he mumbled grabbing a clean towel from the nearby shelf. His hands dry, he was about to push through the double doors to the adjacent room when he finally heard the footsteps accompanied by their owners. The long-awaited arrival of the two men somehow made the Major even angrier than the Spartan conditions he had to work under.

"What's going on here?" he asked, effectively hiding his worry behind the irritation in his tone, "Where have you been? I suppose you wanted to take the lead Hunnicutt…"

"Shut up Winchester!" snapped Potter. In a moment, however, the old then man sighed, cast BJ a quick glance and added more calmly "Sorry Winchester, we're just a bit…"

"I think "nervous" would be the right word." helped Charles.

"Well, yes," Potter nodded, "we had a little… problem to discuss." he looked again at the scrubbing surgeon, seeking a single emotion appear on his pale face.

Hunnicutt's blank expression gave Winchester the most unpleasant feeling, the Major had ever had – shame. Among his other feelings and emotions, this one was not a frequent guest at all… at least, not when the cause of all this were the two morons he had the misfortune to share his tent with. It was not long time ago when Charles started treating the MASH inhabitants as equal as it was possible. Somewhere in the depths of his contempt a small spring was borne, and it was growing bigger every day. "Respect" was its name. He saw these people working, doing their best to save a life, caring for their patients and for each other. They were more than just colleagues, they were family, and, though never going to admit it freely, Winchester felt the desire to be the part of it.

"Winchester! Are you with us?"

"Yes Colonel, you know that nothing can distract a high-skilled surgeon like me from my duties." he said trying to shake off his confusion the way nobody would notice it. He caught, however a glimpse of something like comprehension in his CO's eyes, but it flashed and disappeared leaving the bewildered Major only wonder whether he had just imagined it.

"You play the leading role Charles." BJ said grimly. "The Colonel will assist, I'll cover the anesthesiology…"

"Why me?" Winchester raised his eyebrow, taken aback by this statement. "I thought you…"

"I don't feel well to operate right now." BJ answered.

An icy hand clenched the Major's heart. "No! Please no!" he thought. For the second time of the morning he felt his head go round and his internals fill with immense all-pervading cold, which had nothing to do with his earlier "hydrotherapeutic procedure".

"Winchester?" Potter's voice seemed to come through a thick glass. The sound was muffled by strange buzzing in his ears, blocking all his senses.

"I'll do it Colonel" he said briefly, avoiding a longer phrase as it would betray the tremble of his voice, "Scrub up then, I'm almost done and I'll wait for you here."

They continued scrubbing in complete silence. Charles couldn't make himself enter the OR alone, so he simply waited for the other surgeons to finish, he couldn't start without an assistant and an anesthesiologist anyway. While waiting, he discovered that he had indeed been cursed as the hot water in the camp seemed to have ignored nobody but him.

Ready at last, the three of them entered the OR.

"He's stable." said Margaret acknowledging their presence with a nod.

"He's been unconscious since the arrival I presume." said Potter.

"He began stirring after we gave him the first dose of blood," said Margaret, "but it didn't last long."

"Let's begin." said BJ taking his seat and preparing the equipment ready to put Hawkeye under.

Margaret looked at him, surprise on her face, but didn't dare asking. Instead she silently summoned Kellye to help her and the doctors put on the white gowns and gloves.

Winchester's fingers moved automatically, his voice, when he thanked the nurse, seemed to echo far away, and if not the solid evidence that the words had escaped from his own mouth, he'd never have believed in their true origin.

It was unbearable, this sharp feeling of terror was penetrating him, piercing every organ, every muscle, tearing apart every nerve and vessel. Winchester felt that if he didn't go away at that very moment, he would lose it. "You've never been on a verge of a nervous breakdown before!" he told himself. "Pull yourself together! Winchesters never had weaklings in their family!" After this autogenic therapy the Major felt better, but his relief was destined to be short. Another voice, authoritative and angry, came from nowhere and grew louder with every second.

"_You have no right to operate on him! He didn't give you the permission!"_ the voice said, tenfold stronger than a second before. There was something sinister in the tone and it made Winchester's blood freeze with terror and panic. The startled Major almost jumped, so loud the voice had sounded right inside his head. The man nervously looked around trying to find his assailant, but found none. There was nobody in the room who might have done it. His eyes moved further and found Father Mulcahy who was looking at him so intently as if he wanted to take an X-ray with just his eyes. It was not easy to avert his eyes from the priest's piercing stare, but luckily the Father was then distracted by Klinger who had asked him something Winchester did not hear. Relieved at first by his escape from this unnerving eye contact, Charles realized that he was again all alone with his own fears. As soon as the thought came to him, he heard that voice once more, much angrier than ever.

"_You can't operate on him! You should not have agreed to do it!_"

"But I had no choice!" he thought, desperately praying that it would go away, "I had to do it! I couldn't…"

"_You had a choice,"_ the voice interrupted, _"you could have backed off, you fool, you should have backed off!"_

"I must try to save him, I want to save him!" he said to the invisible torturer.

How is he going to fight this cruel alter ego of his if his own words sound more like a plea than a statement, a rather feeble plea, in fact.

"_You're lying! You don't care for anybody but yourself, you self-centered peacock!"_

"No, I'm not!" Winchester didn't even notice that he'd shouted his reply out loud.

"What is it Winchester? What you're not?" asked Potter.

"Oh, it's nothing Colonel." mumbled Charles in response, blinking maniacally in order to shed the upcoming tears and stubbornly avoiding Mulcahy's concerned look, shot directly at him. Having successfully, he hoped, applied the poker face to his image of a surgeon at work, he added, "let's start."

"Go ahead then." said the older man shifting his eyes from Winchester to BJ, lost somewhere in his thoughts. "How's he Hunnicutt?" he asked the man.

"Stable Colonel." was a monotone answer.

"Good."

Though short, the conversation between BJ and Potter did not carry well to Charles's clogged ears. The surgeon recognized only one word, "stable", and it made the annoying buzzing in his ears a bit softer.

"Don't worry everyone, we won't keep you in dark, so please don't anything except me or Winchester asks you to do it." said Potter not taking his gaze off Hawkeye's still form.

He looked at Winchester silently ordering him to begin. Charles made a couple of orders to Margaret and took the scalpel she had handed him. There it was, he had to make the first cut… Why is the task so difficult when you know the patient personally? The shining blade of the sharp instrument clenched in his hand nullified all the mustered determination.

"_He doesn't trust you!" _he heard the voice again. "_He will never trust his life to a person like you_."

"I am a good surgeon!" he made a new attempt to repel the abuse, "There's no reason why anybody should not trust me…"

He remembered it at last, the main reason for his irrational fear to even touch Pierce with something sharper than a safety pin.

Hawkeye's angry face came into view "_… a patient means nothing to you. You just don't care… if I were hurt, I'd want Hunnicutt or Potter to work on me…. They'd bust a gut to save a life. You wouldn't even work up a sweat…_"

"No!" Winchester closed his eyes, the memory of Hawkeye's face full of disgust and contempt still fresh in his mind. It was not just fear, it was guilt!

"Major, are you okay?"

Charles looked up to meet the worried faces of his comrades, all except BJ, who appeared to be oblivious to anything but his friend's vitals. What should he do? There's no way back, no escape, just he and the work he is to do no matter how frightened he is. He and Pierce are the only qualified chest cutters in the unit, and since Pierce is apparently unable to operate on himself, it was up to him, Charles Winchester III, to run the show.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you for asking." He said at last, every word filled with the dignity fit for a monarch, not mentioning a bunch of tired surgeons. "Could you just spare me one more minute to concentrate?"

Potter gave a sad but sincere smile "Sure Winchester, I begin, you follow, but not for long. As you may guess, we need you to be in command at the moment."

"Yes Colonel" the Major answered.

He tried to focus on something good, something to enlighten his spirit… suddenly it came to him, the very recollection he needed, vital like fresh air and sun light. "…_You're pompous, arrogant, conceited and a total boor... but you're all right_." Pierce thought that he was all right, that he deserved a chance to become a better person.

The irrational panic left him, replaced by a wish to do his best to save the man he shares his tent with, to prove Pierce that he's changed, that he really cares.

"I'll save him!" he thought, "Even if I do bust my gut!"

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**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Helo everyone! Thank you for your wonderful reviews and all the alerts! You all give me the fuel for my work, and I don't mean just the story))) **

**As usual, I'm not satisfied with my language. Although I try to improve it, it takes a lot of time. Well, sorry for this.**

**I think I'm tiring you out))) So, it's high time to shut up))**

**Enjoy the chapter) Disclaimer: All is the same, MASH is not mine. **

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**Chapter 7**

_Th__-thump…th-thump…th-thump…_

It was the only sound he could and, frankly speaking, wanted to hear at the moment, "Slow, still too slow," he thought, "his rate barely reaches the normal point…", he sighed and shook his head trying to clear it from the most horrible images of what could have happened to Hawkeye if they hadn't found him in time. Hawkeye, freezing to death in the middle of nowhere, was the most harmless of all the options that had passed through his exhausted mind during the last hour. "At least his pulse is regular." he muttered under his breath, hoping that the actual sounding of these words, instead of some disembodied thoughts, would help to make the things better. Imagined he this or not, BJ was not sure, but Hawkeye's pulse became stronger.

"Good boy Hawk!" BJ whispered, smiling slightly, "You can do it!"

Relieved by the small improvement of his friend's condition, the surgeon rubbed his tired eyes and decided to let his attention loosen up by surveying the room. Three of his comrades, Potter, Winchester and Margaret, were gathered around the operating table. The others were busing themselves by changing and adjusting the IVs, or, in Father Mulcahy's case, just standing silently in the corner, stiff like an ice sculpture.

Intrigued by the priest's strange pose Hunnicutt fixed his eyes on him trying to deduce what was going on. The first thing BJ eliminated was the praying. The Father's eyes at that moment were definitely not of a praying chaplain and the man was not just looking into space either.

BJ followed the direction of the priest's gaze expecting it to rest on the unconscious Hawkeye or on the doctors, but discovered that it was apparently meant for Winchester. It was logical of course that the other occupants of the room might want to watch the operation and Charles was the one performing it. BJ, however, was absolutely taken aback by the fact that all Mulcahy's attention was directed just to the Major and nobody else. The priest practically pinned Winchester to the floor by his sharp stare filled with fear and, BJ didn't know whether he had got it right or not, pity. "What does that mean?" he thought. Having not come to a definite answer, he decided to watch Winchester more closely. As soon as he passed his attention to the people at the table, he immediately heard Potter's voice as if somebody had switched on the volume.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I must admit that Pierce was lucky to get injured in such weather conditions," the Colonel said, "even if it does sound horrible." he added having met his friends' shocked faces.

"Do you mean his blood loss Colonel?" asked Margaret in a shaky voice.

"Yes Major, the shrapnel tore the artery and if it were warmer outside…"

"He would have bled to death long before we had the chance to find him." Charles finished grimly. Despite his usual self-confidence, the Major, BJ noticed, was very pale. Perhaps he also felt Mulcahy's eyes on him but chose to ignore the priest and, deliberately or not, avoided even looking in that direction.

"I wouldn't call that "luck"." the Major said, "Although the hypothermia helped, there's the real danger of a hole we can miss because of his slow blood circulation…" he paused as if checking something, "is his pulse rate still low BJ?" he asked at last, waking the latter from his thoughts.

"Ah, unfortunately yes, Charles." the Captain answered locking his eyes with his tent mate's. There was something strange in his look, something BJ couldn't read. What was it? Fear? Anger? Confusion? Whatever was haunting Winchester, he wouldn't show it. But for his eyes filled with a cocktail of emotions, the surgeon's hands as well as voice were steady. For the others, except Mulcahy, he was just his usual arrogant self.

"Damn it!"

BJ nearly jumped at Potter's exclamation. "What is it Colonel…" But Hunnicutt received the answer before he could finish the question. The regular thumping which had calmed him several minutes before and allowed him think about something else except Hawkeye's condition, suddenly broke. Stuck with nothing but the sheer terror BJ pressed his stethoscope harder to his friend's pulse point, his eyes fixed on the gauge. This was not good, something seemed to have gone wrong, terribly wrong.

"What happened Colonel?" he shouted, "the pressure is dropping!"

"Bleeding" was Charles's short reply followed by Potter's agitated voice asking Margaret for more clamps and sponges, "and we can't find it… suction quickly!" the last part of the phrase was meant for Margaret who obeyed immediately not pausing to give Winchester a bewildered look.

Pushing the sight of the frightened Winchester deeper into the backyard of his mind, BJ turned his attention again to Hawkeye. "Please Hawk, just don't give up," he pleaded his unconscious friend, "it'll be over soon, don't give up." BJ's heart sank when he felt that Hawkeye's pulse had grown weaker.

"What's taking you so long?" he shouted to his colleagues, "I'm losing his pulse!"

"We can't find this damn hole anywhere!" cried Winchester in despair.

"Calm down boys!" said Potter firmly, "We won't be any use for Pierce if we lose control."

"Sorry Colonel, but it doesn't change anything." said Winchester, his tone more even with familiar notes of snobbery in it. "I still can't find the source of the bleeding."

"Just look and you'll find it," said Potter, his eyes on Hawkeye's body, "suction Margaret!"

It was a total chaos. Most of the commotion was created by Klinger and Kellye, rummaging maniacally in the cabinet in their search for more blood, replacing the bottles and passing more clean towels and sponges to their friends at the table. Potter and Winchester, meanwhile, were practically elbow-deep in Hawkeye's chest trying to locate one small hole which, if not found in time would surely lead to a big disaster.

Completely losing track of time BJ, fixed all his attention on the gauge and a thready beating carried to his ears through his stethoscope. The surgeon didn't care how much time had actually passed - seconds, minutes, hours… as long as he could still hear this sound, this precious heartbeat…

"Bingo!"

Potter's voice suddenly pierced the air, startling BJ from his self-inflicted trance.

"Did you find it?"

"Yes, we did!" said Charles joyfully, "We'll close it in a moment." he added ordering Margaret to pass him a clamp.

"Hurry up then." said BJ returning to the monitoring of his patient's vitals, interrupted by the Colonel's voice. He was greeted though with grave silence, which crushed upon him like a gigantic wave turning his brain and stomach at the same time. The awareness of what had just happened slowly crept to his clogged brain, making his nausea stronger with every second. "Charles! Colonel!" he didn't recognize his voice, so hoarse it sounded.

"What is it?" asked Colonel turning his head to BJ. The horror-struck eyes of his fellow surgeon told him everything. In a second BJ's reply confirmed his suspicions.

"No pulse." the Captain said.

As soon as the last sound of BJ's statement reached everybody's ears, the surgeons immediately sprinted into action. As they were already inside Hawkeye's chest it did not take Charles long to reach his tent mate's heart after injecting it with adrenalin.

From his seat BJ could watch Charles's eyes gradually fill with such fear he had never thought the Major could actually feel. There was something like a silent pleading in those eyes. "What is it?" thought BJ, "Does Charles feel guilty? Why?" There were no answers to these questions and BJ didn't even have the desire to search for them. It was not the time for such trivial things as Winchester's strange behavior, because something much more important was at stake – Hawkeye's life. Having cut himself loose from the thoughts about Winchester's hidden emotions, Hunnicutt pressed the chestpiece of his stethoscope harder to his friend's still carotid artery, his other hand pumping more air into Hawkeye's lungs. The next two minutes seemed to stretch into two hours. Shock and despair were shrouding BJ, obliterating his hope, ripping it into pieces. "Please Hawk, don't die," he whispered fighting with his tears, "don't give up."

The second minute passed and nothing happened. Half of the given time was over. That was the moment when everyone began to panic. Although there were only seven of them, not counting their patient, to BJ the whole room looked like an anthill, or more probably, like a buzzing hive. Suddenly the high voice of none other but the queen of their hive silenced everyone so abruptly as if they all had been gagged.

"Pierce! Come back! That's an order!"

Everyone, even BJ, who had deliberately shut himself from anything except Hawkeye's missing pulse, was startled by Margaret's outburst. Catching his breath BJ didn't realize at first that the throbbing in his ears was not caused by Margaret's loud voice, but by the beating he was afraid he would never hear again.

"I feel it!" the captain shouted to his comrades "It's getting stronger!"

"Halleluiah!" cried Potter, "We all have just experienced an unprecedented moment, I think."

"What do you mean?" asked Margaret, her voice low, calm, devoid of all the authority it recently possessed.

"It was the first time when Pierce actually obeyed an order." he answered smiling wildly under his mask.

"He definitely chose the right moment for it." said Charles, not raising his eyes from his unconscious patient, but receiving approving nods from the others, all except BJ.

"How is he?" Charles asked BJ who haven't said a word since Pierce's return to life. The latter gave a nervous start and looked at his colleagues.

"What?" he asked.

"How is Pierce?" Charles repeated the question.

"He's stable now. When are you going to close him up? "

"We're just about to, hold on a sec, it won't take long." answered Potter

"Good" was the reply, "but check everything one more time, just to be sure."

"Don't worry Hunnicutt," said Potter, "we know our job."

After what seemed like half an hour, Potter and Winchester made their last stitches and helped Margaret dress the wound. Pierces ribs appeared not to be as badly broken as they thought. The doctors hoped that at least Hawkeye's right side would heal properly, as it only required perfect rest and immobility. These two things were easy to provide, because of Hawkeye's unconscious state, BJ, however, hoped that it wouldn't last long either. The surgeon hated being realistic about such a thing as the life of his best friend, but the truth wouldn't leave his head. There was still a possibility that he would not make it even through the following hours.

The weather outside spoiled completely and, as Klinger sadly noted, "beyond repair". After a quick draught of the fresh chilly air to steady his nerves and, perhaps, freeze his tears, BJ found himself sitting in the post-op right near his friend's cot. After this short break the first sight of Hawkeye sent shivers down the captain's spine. The chief surgeon was deadly pale, whiter than the sheets under his slim form. He looked even skinnier than usual with all the bones protruding through his marble-like skin.

Someone touched BJ's shoulder making the latter jump on his stool. He turned his head backward to meet all his partners-in-crime surrounding him and the man on the bed.

"We won't be disturbed tonight," said Potter quietly, "the Major and the Lieutenant," he nodded to the two nurses, "will split the night's shift, so nobody will come here before we break the news in the morning."

BJ nodded. He didn't want the whole camp to know about the day's events either, not yet. They were lucky to transport Hawkeye from the compound to the OR without meeting a single person and it was better leave everything like this at least for the night. The morning will show them what they have and what to say to the others. Desperately wishing their morning news to sound like "Hawkeye will be fine" BJ grabbed his friend's cold thin wrist with the one hand, simultaneously pressing the stethoscope to the chief surgeon's neck with the other.

"The pulse is steady, but still slower than normal." he said to his comrades.

He didn't hear a single response to the announcement. Having shut himself again from all the disturbing sounds and noises around, he concentrated all his attention on the gentle throbbing of Hawkeye's carotid artery. He let the blessing sound occupy all his senses, fill every cell of his body and finally mix with his own heartbeat. At that very moment he was sure that both their hearts were beating in unison… _th-thump th-thump th-thump_…

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**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh, that was long! At last, the next chapter is ready... I wish I'd done better and faster but my wish is not shared by the other world around me)))**

**Read the chapter anyway, I hope our heroes are not out of character, that's the way I see them)**

**Disclaimer: I write, but do not own. MASH is not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 8**

BJ wouldn't believe his eyes. "How can Hawkeye be so still? I've never seen him like this before, since the time I set my foot on this land." The first thing that struck the newcomer during his and Hawkeye's first meeting on that fateful day, when having missed Trapper's plane Hawkeye was cursing the whole Korea, was the surgeon's energy. Even in his sleep he was constantly fidgeting and mumbling something incoherent and indistinctive, but not now. Now his best friend, someone closer than a brother he could ever have, looked more like a corpse than the man he used to be not more than a week ago.

When he saw his best friend's prostrate body lying on the icy ground, with the strange angle of his arms and legs, painfully reminding BJ of a broken marionette with cut strings, he immediately felt sick. The poor surgeon had to shut his mouth as tightly as possible in his futile attempt to suppress the urge to throw up right in front of Klinger. For several agonizing minutes it seemed to be beyond his endurance, but a deep grasp of fresh air brought his balance back.

Now, sitting in the post-op and closing his hands around Hawkeye's thin wrist BJ recalled the first time he got sick in Korea, the first time when all his trainings back in the states seemed to have come in vain, the first time he met this kind of death face to face. It was the very first time he tried to help a wounded soldier after he joined this damn war, a far cry from what he had been told and taught. He remembered quite well the whole lot of horror he felt at that moment. Knowing by heart the name of every bone and vessel in human body, he was absolutely taken aback by the amount of blood it actually contained. It seemed much more than the number he knew all too well. How could such an ocean fit into one man? The poor guy was not even a man yet, he was a kid, not older than eighteen.

"Since that dreadful experience I've seen hundreds of wounded and many of them died before I could do anything to save them," he thought while trying to locate and take Hawkeye's pulse for the hundredth time of the last hour, "but never again had I the need empting my stomach at the sight of an injured soldier. Why everything is so different when this is one of your own?" BJ knew that the answer to all his questions was obvious, but couldn't stop asking them. But for his trembling legs and sluggish mind he'd surely go straight to Potter's office, take his personal file and rip to pieces this stupid sheet of paper with this apparently spurious information that he was a high-qualified surgeon. He didn't deserve his diploma as well as the right to call himself Hawkeye's best friend. "Best friends are supposed to help each other." he murmured bitterly, "What use was I for him? I almost failed to perform a simple procedure and missed the moment when Hawk had gone into arrest."

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. Taking a deep sigh in order to suppress the upcoming tears, the surgeon released Hawkeye's hand and finally looked around. It was incredible, but apart from the sleeping patients, the room was empty. "Where the hell is everybody?" BJ's heart froze when the sudden loneliness overwhelmed him. Shuddering from the biting frost spreading through all his body, he could not help but wonder at the strange disappearance of his friends. "Why did they leave me alone?" he thought. "Did I let them down, like I did with Hawkeye or my family?" The long-ago suppressed struggle slowly crept toward his mind, bringing back that awful feeling of guilt and disappointment.

After his graduation the newly-made surgeon was happy to have the right to work and support his family. Those years before he finally got his diploma were truly unbearable for the young man. Peg was quite determined to put him through the med school and managed very well. Unfortunately, it didn't help BJ's conscious at all. He was ashamed even to look into Peg's eyes while they were doing shopping or paying the rent. And now, when he was just a draftee, he could neither be with his family, nor support them in any way. "I let them down." he thought "I always let people I love down…"

Suddenly, BJ was jolted from his thoughts when somebody touched his shoulder. He recognized his CO's whisper immediately.

"Hunnicutt"

"Yes Colonel?" he answered, his tone calmer than ever, devoid of the storm, raging inside him. "Where were you, by the way?"

"I sent Charles and Mulcahy to grab a cup of coffee, you also haven't eaten for almost two days as I recall."

"I'm not hungry"

"Nobody is son, but our bodies need fuel and you know it too…"

Potter paused waiting for the Captain's reaction, but BJ didn't respond and just nervously shrugged his shoulders.

Seeing this odd gesture, the Colonel continued "…And I also sent Major Houligan to bed, at least I hope that I succeeded," he sighed, "she needs to rest before her shift."

BJ gave a sad chuckle "Your method of persuasion was accompanied with a couple of threats, I guess."

Potter nodded "I promised to file a report if she did not obey, don't know for what, of course, but I didn't voice exactly this part of my threat … anyway," he looked at his watch, "she has four hours and I'm not responsible for my actions if she comes here earlier."

"I'd love to see you try anything of the sort." BJ smiled imagining the stubborn expression on Margaret's face and the words that would surely come from her mouth should the Colonel even raise his voice at her, which was not safe at all. BJ rubbed his eyes again and was about to return to his vigil and his self-torture, but Potter's voice reached his ears again.

"You too need to rest son." he said.

BJ looked at the Colonel forcing to keep his eyes open, the feat that required much more strength that his body possessed at that moment. He realized though that the ruse had not deceived the older man. Potter knew him far too well to buy into his argument "I'm not tired". The simple truth was a better choice at the moment.

"I don't want to leave him." was the Captain's answer.

"Hunnicutt, don't make me order you…"

The Colonel was cut short by the other voice when its owner burst into the ward through the double doors.

"Listen Father," Winchester sounded annoyed, even angry, "I don't want to be rude, but don't you think it's my business whether I want to speak or not."

The core of their argument completely forgotten, Potter and BJ stared with all their eyes at the two men, who seemed to be oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

"Why is Mulcahy so determined to talk to Charles?" BJ he asked Potter in a hushed voice.

"It's his job," Potter answered simply, "to talk and to comfort."

"I know it is, but I've never seen our chaplain act like this. There's something behind it, I'm sure. The Father narrowly pierced Charles with his stare during the operation." This time BJ noticed Potter's expression change from confusion to concern and a glimpse of comprehension appeared on his face. Was the older man hiding anything?

"Colonel, do you know anything about it…" BJ did not finish his question as the last part was stifled by his own name being shouted at a high-pitched tone.

"If you need to find somebody to take care of, take Hunnicutt! He needs it more than I."

"You both do Charles." said Potter firmly.

"I'm sorry Colonel, but let me decide for myself!" Winchester's voice was angrier than ever. "Right now I want this man…" he pointed to Mulcahy "…to leave me alone!" he paused taking a deep breath as if to steady his nerves. "Get Hunnicutt to sleep," he nodded at BJ avoiding to look the latter in the eyes, "he won't do Pierce any good in such condition of his."

These last words put BJ completely out of temper. The least he could do for Hawkeye was to keep vigil holding the man's hand. He has already proved himself to be either a rotten surgeon as well as friend. Why don't they understand his desperate desire to lift this guilt, this burden off his heart and do something useful?

"Mind your own business, Winchester!"

"Easy Hunnicutt" said Potter putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "he didn't say anything offensive."

"I don't think so." snarled BJ, his gimlet gaze on the Major.

BJ saw Charles open his mouth ready to repel this attack, but was stopped by Mulcahy, trying to cease the oncoming storm.

"Why don't you go to the Swamp, Major?" the priest said, his tone calm.

"I have been intending to do so from the very beginning" Charles replied, "Unlike Hunnicutt, I do care for my health."

"What did you say Charles? Your health? Oh, I see it now. Of course, this is not your best friend lying unconscious on the army cot, stuck with various tubes and needles!" BJ has had enough. The rage was burning through his body, hot and scorching, hotter than hellfire. It was going to leave nothing but ash of the poor Captain if he did not let it out.

"Why bother if something bad happens with others, if it doesn't concern you? People mean nothing to you!" BJ's fury seemed to reach the boiling point. The adrenaline somehow gave more strength to his limbs and the surgeon stood up, though he had to grab the nearby IV stand for support. There he stood, leaning on his "staff" like an old monk.

"I shouldn't have let you operate on Hawkeye!"

"BJ, please calm down," said Mulcahy, "I can assure you that you're completely mistaken…"

"I appreciate your attempt to defend me, Father, but I think it won't be of any use right now." said Winchester, menace and cold in every word.

If not for the emotions, blocking his instinct of self-preservation, BJ would have run away. The change of the atmosphere in the ward was so instant as if somebody had opened all the doors and windows letting in the frozen winter air. The lights in the room suddenly became dimmer shrouding Winchester with dark clouds…

The Captain shook his head to clear his brain and looked at Charles again. There were no storm clouds above him, it was surely a stupid thing to imagine…perhaps he was tired after all… BJ looked at Winchester more attentively, directly in the eyes. In a second he understood that he had crossed the border. Charles's eyes were exactly the same when during the operation. The same strange mixture of emotions, but accompanied this time by the expression of pure wrath on the Major's face.

"Now listen to me, you Mister Perfect," he whispered, "in case you didn't notice, it was me who tried to revive Pierce, coaxing life into his heart! You don't know what I've gone through to perform this operation!"

Charles looked at Mulcahy who met his gaze with an encouraging nod "Say it Major." whispered the priest. Charles nodded back and turned his venomous stare to BJ.

"Pierce is my friend, Hunnicutt," he said more calmly, "and don't even dare tell me that I don't care for him or for anybody else in this camp." Charles heaved a sigh and swayed clutching his head. Potter and Mulcahy were immediately at his side leading him by his elbows to the seat BJ had left.

BJ was watching the scene feeling completely at a loss. He knew neither what to say nor what to do. Charles's outburst seemed to have opened his eyes. Ashamed of his words and actions more than ever, BJ realized how selfish he had been. Instantly, like a flash of lightning, all the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. The reasons for Winchester's strange behavior in the OR began to unravel one after another. Charles's ordeal was not any easier than BJ's or anybody else's. The Major went further and, BJ did not know how exactly, overcame his fear. "How did he do it?" thought the surgeon watching the Father going to the opposite end of the room. "Mulcahy understood Charles's feelings, right there in the OR. Ah, the man can read anyone like a book, and see everything through its pages." A pleasant warm feeling appeared somewhere inside BJ's chest. He was not alone. They didn't leave him. He still had his family back in the States, waiting for him to return and he had his family here, in the camp. All these people became a family to him, who would always support him no matter what could happen. Now they all had to save Hawkeye. "We'll do it together!" BJ thought. He focused his gaze on Charles to find him surrounded by Mulcahy and Potter sitting on the stools the priest had obviously found somewhere. Charles was trembling slightly and looked surprisingly thin. This last detail of his appearance told BJ more about his condition than any words could do.

"I'm sorry Charles." the Captain finally said, "I… I…"

"I know it BJ. I know what you mean." the latter replied in a low voice, "I didn't do anything to show my feelings anyway… No need to apologize, well, let's bring this sleeping prince back to us, I begin to miss a fake snake in my bed and toothpaste in my boots."

"It was me who put that toothpaste in your boot." said BJ giving the other a sad smile.

"Doesn't matter, you got what I was trying to say."

"Yeah, thank you Charles" BJ stretched his hand to shake it with Charles's, but the Major suddenly stood up and, instead of exchanging a firm handshake, hugged the astonished Captain, who, having recovered from the initial shock, gently patted Winchester's back.

"Promise me one thing" Winchester murmured into BJ's shoulder.

"Anything" the latter answered.

"Don't tell Pierce about this scene when he wakes up. I can't allow myself lose my face."

"I promise." BJ chucked when Charles released him. There they stood, their legs unsteady, their eyes red and puffy…

"I think that's it folks." said Potter standing up, "Go to bed! Both of you!"

"Colonel…"

"That's an order!"

"I don't want to leave Hawk." said BJ stubbornly.

"I know it Hunnicutt," answered Potter, "that's why you and Winchester stay here. We have several vacant cots right now, most of the patients were sent to the 121th."

"But…"

"No objections!" the old man raised his voice, "This is not the time to participate who is more tired and who's more worried. I need you both fit for your work, so get your asses to those cots!"

BJ couldn't resist his exhaustion any more, so, after checking Hawkeye's pulse, just to be sure, and exchanging his glance with Charles, who nodded, he lay down on the cot Potter had indicated. His eyes closed before his head had even touched the pillow and the creak of the nearby cot, was the last sound he heard. It was time to sleep.

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**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thaks for your reviews and alerts! They mean a lot to me!**

**Here's a new chapter at last)) (Sorry for being so slow) The chapter is rather dark, but the dawn is also one step closer)**

**Disclaimer: MASH is not my property**

**Enjoy! (even if it's sad)**

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**Chapter 9**

"The sun vanished, leaving the bright day devoured by thick and impenetrable darkness. There were no stars and the inky sky looked like a black pit lighted only by a round silver object partially obscured by the clouds. The cool moonlight seemed to have replaced the dazzling sunbeams within a second, as if the major part of the day had just been stolen. This ghostly, almost supernatural shining sent shivers down everybody's spine making our teeth clatter either from the cold and from the terror of what was to come next. We were walking in silence so heavy that it would have surely suffocated us if not the sound of the icy grass breaking under our feet…" he paused when a new wave of shivers racked through his body. "Then I saw them, pale, immobile, dread and pain on their faces, shining under the moonlight as if somebody had covered them with phosphorus. They were all dead, there was no mistake it that. Their eyes were open, deprived of the slightest trace of life. They were just staring into nothing…" he was shivering more violently now and the priest understood that the poor man was coming to the most intense part of his story.

"Go on son." said Mulcahy at last, smiling encouragingly, "we know only half of what had happened that night."

"I recognized those men. They were Jim's friends, two sergeants from his unit. The whole world seemed to have crushed upon me at that moment. With a sickening feeling in my stomach I realized what unit had been caught under the shell fire. It was Jim's unit, my little brother's unit. For the first time have I been that scared. If the closest pals my brother had in this damn war were dead, what the hell could have happened to Jimmy? There were some rumors of the storm warning, so I didn't have my chopper, it was useless during nighttime anyway. I volunteered, you know, when the news came I decided to come and help the medics, we were short-handed and the request was urgent."

"What was it about?"

"We were reported that a village not far away had been bombed. Fortunately, almost all the civilians had been evacuated earlier, but, as we knew, a group of soldiers was stationed there. Not the whole unit, just a group…Jimmy's group."

Mulcahy nodded in understanding, trying to guide the Lieutenant through this painful recollection of his. Waiting for the man to come round at last, Mulcahy played all the possible scenarios of their future talk and decided to get Robinson talking at first. "We'll see what to do next." he murmured catching the sight of the finally stirring pilot.

Robinson woke up as soon as the effect of the sedative wore off, a couple of hours after they managed to lull Hunnicutt and Winchester to sleep. The Father let the man take his time to rub his eyes, look around and remember where he had fallen asleep. Mulcahy saw Robinson's gaze search the room for more information which his memory apparently lacked at that moment. Finally the pilot noticed the unconscious surgeon he had failed to rescue. He jumped from his cot in a flash and hastened to the injured man's side, nearly bumping into Kellye who was about to take the surgeon's blood pressure. Feeling that the time to interfere came, otherwise Robinson would drive himself to another breakdown, Mulcahy stood up from his observation point in the opposite corner of the room and silently approached the neurotic man. Robinson jumped on his spot when the Father touched his shoulder. He looked at the priest, panic in his eyes, not daring to ask the only question that seemed to have formed in his mind. It was quite predicted though.

Having reassured the Lieutenant that Hawkeye was alive, and carefully omitting the fact that the Captain was, actually still hovering between life and death, Mulcahy led the pilot man back to his cot. The Lieutenant's objections that he was fine crashed upon the solid wall of the Father's statement that they needed to talk. Under such pressure Robinson finally gave up and agreed to share the whole story from the beginning. Soon after he began speaking, the priest noticed that, though still shivering occasionally, the man looked calmer. "It is true that sometimes all you need is just to let your pain and fears out," Mulcahy thought. Waking from his thought, the chaplain decided to proceed their little, but dangerous trip.

"What happened next?" he asked Robinson.

The latter took a deep breath and went on.

"It didn't take me long to find Jim, as he was lying not more than five meters away from his dead friends. My heart sank when I dropped on my knees beside him." Robinson gave a sad smile, "It was just like some horror film. As soon as I touched him, the sky suddenly blazed up. I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, but my poor eyelids were actually helpless against this blinding illumination. The sound that came next made me cover my ears as well. After the grave stillness that used to rein this place just a minute ago, this crash or whatever it was definitely meant to rip my eardrums. For one dreadful minute I thought that the shelling had begun again, but feeling my hair gradually getting soaked, I realized that it was the thunderstorm. A single minute hadn't passed before my fingers grew numb. I looked around myself frantically searching for my companions to help me get Jimmy inside the bus, but everything around me was in total chaos. I could not make out my companions' voices through this gale when the roaring wind and every fresh roll of thunder hammered inside my head. I was already soaked to my skin when one of the medics spotted me. Luck was finally on my side when he called for a stretcher to be brought.

Once inside the bus and under the light of our lantern, Jones, that was the medic's name, began giving the first aid to the rescued soldiers. Not waiting for him to turn his attention to my brother, I decided to start the examination myself. Jimmy's chest wound looked serious and the fresh blood had been still seeping from under his shirt. When I recovered from the initial shock of seeing my brother in such a state, I felt slightly relieved. Having not still taken his pulse, I knew for sure that Jim was alive. Just one rule, one axiom told me that everything was not yet lost – _dead men don't bleed_.

Jim's pulse was weak but steady. The other soldiers, a corporal and a private, appeared to have got off lightly. One had a nasty scratch on his temple and a concussion, not too severe fortunately, the other broke his arm and, perhaps, one or two ribs. Jimmy's poor friends were unfortunate to be caught in the very center. My brother appeared to be just behind the line but the shell fragments somehow managed to reach him. Those two were quite lucky to "meet" only the impact of the burst wave."

Robinson rubbed his eyes again, this time with the air of embarrassment on his face. The young man seemed to begin to realize what commotion he had caused around himself.

"Sorry Father, sometimes I just can't hold my emotions when it concerns my family…"

"It's fine Lieutenant, I've seen greater and older men break like a straw having got bogged down in their self-pity. Your emotions are genuine and they don't, as the word goes, besmirch your honor." Mulcahy gave a kindly little chuckle when a shade of a smile had crossed the pilot's face. It grew serious though within a second.

"As far as I remember, my brother once told me, there were eighteen men in Jimmy's group. I saw some other bodies but did not count them." he whispered, "We saved only three of them, my brother included. Three kids, Father, among eighteen…" the Lieutenant was not shaking any more, he was sad, frightened perhaps, but not nervous.

Judging by his body language, Robinson's initial panic and irritation, caused by his forced return to that nightmare he had gone through, began to pass. The priest felt a note of relief and satisfaction. He knew that they were on the right path now. Sharing the painful memories, gave Robinson the strength to overcome them. His tone much calmer that before, the pilot continued.

"The bus ride was rough. The vehicle was constantly swaying, threatening to lose its track." Finishing his story Robinson smiled. "You said you knew the rest." he said.

"I do, and now I do want to hear it from you." Mulcahy answered looking the pilot directly in the eyes. "I want to know what you felt."

"Alright," the Lieutenant paused trying to collect his mind, groping his way through the darkness his mind had been plunged into, "I remember very little of the next several hours actually," he frowned as if in a deep thought, "I don't remember a thing, only a couple of episodes, blurred and broken. I must have been running on pure adrenalin…"

"What was your next recollection after your arrival?"

"I'm here, in this very room, waiting for my brother to be wheeled back from the operation theater… Captain Pierce walked just after the corpsmen. He greeted me with a smile and said that everything would be fine. He had spent all the time at Jimmy's side before he got better. I did not want to leave Jimmy alone either so the Captain let me rest on the nearby cot." Robinson shuddered, "We rescued only three of them and the ward was half empty."

Mulcahy felt that the tears he had been fighting for so long were actually about to win the battle. One minute and his steel nerves would not stand this flood of pain draining his powers completely. Apart from his own fears for Hawkeye's life, he was also exhausted, more than ever. He wished he had been in his tent. It was his own space, his secure stronghold where he could unleash his emotions. He was gradually approaching his limits, he was sure of it. The priest clenched his teeth in a vain attempt to steady his breathing. The tears were burning his eyes, it was unbearable!

Finally Mulcahy fixed his gaze on Robinson. This man needed his help. It was up to the doctors to save lives and his duty was to save souls. Human mind and human spirit are too wondrous to being destroyed by such fiends as fear and guilt. It was good when a human _could_ actually feel guilty, it was what made him human after all, but sometimes it brought nothing but total ruin to his sanity. For the last two days guilt has become something like a common cold. Everyone got infected, even Winchester. Charles's reaction appeared to be an utter surprise to the young priest, but a good one. It was really great to see that their pompous Major did have a heart, and a very big one. "They are the best doctors I have ever seen," he thought, "They will save Hawkeye, and I will save their souls." Feeling his self esteem slowly creep back, Mulcahy looked at the Pilot again, determination in his eyes. It was high time to pass strict to the point.

"Let's discuss your supposed debt to Captain Pierce, my son." he said.

"Of course I own him! He saved my brother's life!" the pilot exclaimed, "And I let him down." he added bitterly.

"No, you didn't." replied Mulcahy looking Robinson directly in the eyes to prove that he was frank, "You did save him."

"But…"

"Look there!" Mulcahy nodded in the direction of Hawkeye's cot, "He's alive. He's breathing, his heart is beating. You did your best to save Captain Pierce and you succeeded! We would have never got to him in time if you hadn't seen his jeep. Right now the whole camp owns you for saving Hawkeye."

Robinson's reaction to these words was immediate. He stood up and began pacing the room. "Father, please, there's no need for that. You're definitely exaggerating."

"But it's you who's exaggerating! Pull yourself together, man! You saved Hawkeye, accept it! It's not your fault that you had not picked him up! Now stop your panic and let us do the rest!"

Robinson stopped. Taken aback by the Chaplain's outburst, he opened and closed his mouth like a caught fish, but no sound escaped from it… it didn't take long though. The pilot took a deep breath, rubbed his face and smiled. It was not a forced and sad, but a wide genuine smile. "Thank you Father." he said.

"You are welcome my son." replied Mulcahy, "feeling better?"

"I think so, I hope so…" the man answered, "I don't know for sure. But I know what I must and what I must not do." he grinned, "I must not let myself fall apart, for Jimmy's sake at least."

"How is he now?" the chaplain asked.

"He's home, safe and sound," the grin grew wider, " getting prepared to go to college next year."

"Good to hear that!" Mulcahy smiled back, "All is fine, you both will be fine."

"Yeah, I think so."

"And what do you know you must do now?"

"I must do something useful. I think I will organize everything to have my chopper repaired. I'm getting my wings or, it'd be better say, my blades back to save more lives."

"Now I see you're back to normal! Good to hear this!"

"Thanks again Father, for everything!" Robinson turned his gaze on Hawkeye, "He'll pull through, won't he?"

"He will, Lieutenant." Mulcahy said simply. "What are you going to do now?"

Robinson looked at his watch, it was almost five in the morning. "I won't sleep today after such a long nap I took. I think I'll go to the showers, grab a cup of coffee, report to the I-corp of my problem and take a jeep to get to my fallen "steed" myself."

"Sounds like a plan to me, but don't tell the people in the camp about Hawkeye, the Colonel will do it himself. The news is not good and we don't want it to be spread like rumors."

"I won't Father, I promise." Robinson sighed for the hundredth time of the past night, "I'll come back as soon as possible though."

"Deal."

Robinson left. Mulcahy closed his eyes and leaned on the wall giving his tired brain a well-deserved rest. He had been sitting like this, as it looked like, for ten or fifteen minutes when some distant voices slowly reached his ears.

"Go wake Major Houligan, I'm afraid I will have to interrupt her exile a half an hour earlier."

"Yes Colonel." Kellye replied.

Mulcahy stood up and approached the older man sitting by Hawkeye's cot, a stethoscope clenched in his shaking hand.

"What is it Colonel?" the priest asked, already fearing for the answer.

"Blood" Colonel answered simply, "Too much blood in chest the tube."

* * *

**To be Continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry it took me too long to update, but I've not been feeling well for the last weeks and couldn't do anything at all. I hope you'll forgive me and I'll try to publish the next chapter sooner.**

**I think I must warn you again about my English, I just hope that my mistakes are not very obvious and stupid))) I also tried to make the chapter longer as some of you had asked me:) **

**In this chapter you'll see the end of one more conflict (the one that I started back in the 3rd chapter). My main victim here is Margaret and her feelings. I only hope that I did't not break the line of thought and the narration goes smoothly, and that nobody it too out of character.**

**Disclaimer: don't own MASH **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"No!"

It happened again. Her hands were shaking. Every inch of her body was covered in cold sweat. Her bedcovers were twisted all around her like a straitjacket and her pillow had mysteriously landed near the opposite wall, just beside the closet.

A strong feeling of nausea overwhelmed her. One hand pressed to her stomach and the other one to her mouth, she concentrated on just one thought that bothered her at the moment, but the urge to throw up would not leave her."No, I can't let it happen, the scene was not that terrible," she whispered frantically catching the cold air with her moth, "there was nothing I hadn't seen before… come on you can do it… breathe…just breath…" Several deep intakes seemed to have made the desirable effect and soon the sickness subsided.

Having overcome the panic attack and feeling slightly better, she looked around the room she had fallen asleep in. The interior was the most familiar and the most… hers she had ever had in her life. It was really strange to call the hellhole she had to live in "home" and "her place". It was not quite true though, as she would definitely give everything she had in here for a real house with a porch and a small garden. In her stupid race towards becoming Major Houligan and the true daughter of her father Howitzer Houligan, she completely forgot about Margaret or rather, hid her somewhere so deep that no wonder that it had been missing for years. She realized it not long ago, when she got married, to be more exact, and even more did she understand after her divorce. It was the first time since she became the head nurse with a ton of responsibilities on her shoulders that she actually tried to open to somebody. Little did she know that this "somebody" would bring her so much pain.

Playing with her toy Colonel she completely forgot that her brand new husband had the same habits of the military relationships as she used to have. Old habits die hard, and, unfortunately, Donald's habits were immortal. When she firmly decided to leave her past behind, she did not know that her husband definitely thought otherwise. Being a married man who had ones vowed to love and care for his wife, he did not feel any kind of remorse to share his bed with a chain of lovers while Margaret was in the warzone.

During and after this damned marriage her fear of showing her true feelings has grown considerably and it was more than strange that she had decided to share them with Pierce. It was truly ridiculous that Pierce would be the one person to help her with the pregnancy test or comfort her when she discovered that Donald had escaped to the States. Remembering that day she smiled. After her bursting into tears, his best way to comfort her was to jump into the jeep and drive away. And it did help, in another way of course. It made her forget about that swine that she used to call "darling" for the rest of the day. After Hawkeye's crazy trip to the peace talks everybody's worry that such a trick would cost the surgeon his liberty, somehow cut her pain out.

Has she ever thought that this pervert would become her close friend? The obvious answer was "no". He was a complete opposite to her father, a man she has been considering for a long time to be her idol. Pierce, on the other hand, was absolutely unmilitary, undisciplined and did not even try to hide his disgust to the army. Was there something in his face that made people trust him? "There surely must be, he's a doctor after all." she whispered getting up to pick her pillow. It was the way he talked to her, determination in his voice and his "two ears, no waiting" always made it clear that she would never get "of his hook" without telling him the whole truth.

Having put her pillow back on its proper place, Margaret consulted her watch. She still had half an hour left before her shift. Finally, her sentence was over and she could return to the post-op. If not the Colonel's threat she would not leave Pierce's side. Without a satisfactory reason to present to her CO, she had no choice but to obey and let the older man lead her to her tent where she would have to spend the next four hours. Her heart beating fiercely and her hands shaking with fear, she marched to her quarters with the dignity that was worth a queen. The pain that her bleeding soul was causing her was effectively locked behind a thick mask of irritation and annoyance.

As soon as she entered the tent, the same wave of panic, that had some kind of released its grip during the operation, came back. It was not just the wave now, but a huge tsunami, destined to crash upon her and break her nerve cells like a crystal vase. She was left all alone in her headquarters, lonely, scared and extremely tired. Nothing could prevent her from falling asleep and giving her mind and soul to be ripped to pieces. The cause of her fear was simple and the most horrible at the same time – nightmares, one particular nightmare to be more exact. Since the very first strike it continued torturing her far too regularly than she had the strength to endure it. The dream was so vivid that Margaret could easily recall the slightest detail, every word, every movement, every drop of blood. This was one of the cruelest tricks her subconsciousness had ever played on her. For a long time already it has not only been showing her this horror at least once in a week, but also adding something new to aggravate her distress. This time, among all the wounded soldiers on her bed, she also saw Pierce. _The Captain was not injured, he was already dead with his kind blue eyes wide open and vacantly staring into space. _Remembering itMargaret shuddered and grabbed the glass of water she had left on her table.

There was nothing she could do with it and nobody could help her make this curse go away, nobody, except Pierce. Margaret was not sure why, but after their talks and the Captain's "practical joke therapy", she used to sleep peacefully through many long nights. Right now, however, Pierce was unconscious, lying on that damned army cot, fighting for his life and she was forced to meet her fears face to face.

Still not fully awake and the bloody images of the wounded soldiers still echoing in her head, she stood up to take some coffee from the mess tent before her shift. She had already stretched her arm to push the door when somebody knocked. In a second she heard Kellye's voice.

"Major! Major, please wake up!"

There was something urgent and frightening in the lieutenant's tone and the Major immediately broke the door open. Her heart sank when she saw that Kellye's tone matched perfectly with her the expression on her face. It told here everything that she had to know to understand that the case was serious and, considering the circumstances, who exactly caused it.

Not pausing to ask the nurse about the reason of her sudden appearance Margaret hastened to the post-op building, Kelley at her heels.

The post-op was silent and, apart from the peacefully sleeping patients and two surgeons, absolutely empty. The early morning sun was seeping through the curtains and the first sunlight of the new day was gradually filling the room. The gentle snoring of the patients was the final contribution to the whole atmosphere of calmness and serenity, a total contradiction to the raging storm inside Margaret's chest. Having burst into the post-op, the nervous woman was immediately riveted to her spot as if she could not penetrate this world of peace in her neurotic state. There she stood, her eyes sweeping the ward, watching helplessly its sleeping occupants.

"What happened?" she asked Kellye when the latter finally caught up with her.

"There's the problem with Hawkeye's chest tubes." she said panting, "Father Mulcahy and Klinger are helping him to get Hawkeye prepped now," her breathing leveled at last, "and the Colonel asked me to wake you and Major Winchester…"

"I'll do it!" snapped Margaret piercing Charles with her eyes, "why is he sleeping, by the way?"

"He was tired…"

"We all were!" she exclaimed fiercely recovering from her stupor, "Why he? Why not the Colonel? Winchester is younger and was far better rested than Potter!"

"Oh Major! You should have seen him when he…" but Kellye was cut short when the head nurse, her face twisted with anger strode to Charles's cot…

* * *

The only thing that he was sure of was the unbearable stiffness in his body, huskiness in his throat and an annoying ringing in his ears, gradually turning into somebody's angry voice.

"_Winchester! If you don't get up right now, I'll do it for you myself!"_

The answer that followed was a muffled groan as if the person somebody was trying to wake had not even understood what was going on.

"_Wake up or I'll greet your with __a good bucket of cold water!"_

The last two words seemed to have switched on the sleeping man's mind, because this time his answer consisted of words, not of several incoherent sounds. The whole sense of the speaker's threat, though, passed off. _"Please no more cold showers today! I hate cold showers…"_

"_Get up, you bastard!"_ The angry voice belonged to a woman, he was sure of it, and sounded strangely familiar…

…"_How dare you, woman, shout at me? I did nothing to deserve such a treatment!" _the male voice replied, anger bursting outside with every sound.

"_I know__ what exactly you deserve and you're going to receive your reward right now!"_

The last "now" seemed to have reached the highest pitch that the human organs of speech can produce. Only one person that he knew could raise her voice like this, the one and only Major Houligan.

Not going to stand this tirade any more, BJ opened his eyes. Finally he was able to match everything he had heard with the scene in front of his eyes. Margaret's and Charles's red faces came into view. Both of them were standing with their arms crossed, shouting at one another over BJ's cot. Too preoccupied by the battle, they seemed to have forgotten about their sleeping friend.

BJ rubbed his eyes trying to focus on the Majors and get the cause of the conflict, but the task was still beyond his limits. _What are they talking about?_ he thought, _Why the walls haven't collapsed yet, I wonder? Their voices will sure knock the building down if they continue like this._

"Switch off the volume you two! My eardrums will not stand longer!" he murmured prepping himself on his elbows and opening his eyes for the second time. Though the Captain's comment was apparently missed by the recipients, the fact that he had moved attracted their attention. The identical expression of fear and concern on their faces made BJ sit on his cot wide-eyed. Suddenly, the events of the last two days flashed in his mind like a lightning, illuminating all the dark spots.

"Hawkeye!" he shouted jumping on his cot. "How is he?"

"That was the very question that I've been trying to ask for a minute already," said Charles offensively, "but this woman is apparently not willing to give me a chance."

Margaret's reaction to Charles's words was immediate "You don't deserve this chance! How dare you speak to me like this?"

"I dare!" said Winchester fiercely "What feedback did you expect?"

"I did not expect anything good!"

"An only wise thought of yours for the last five minutes."

Not fully realizing what he was doing, BJ reacted instinctively. In a second he grabbed Margaret by her elbows and dragged her to his empty cot.

"Will you both stop this childish quarrel and tell me what is going on?" he said at last, but Margaret's temper was not an easy thing to subdue.

"Childish?" she cried, "If you're looking for a child, BJ, this is not me!" she pointed at Charles; "If there's a child present here, it's this ego-tripper!" she turned to BJ who had already left her sitting on his cot and approached his tent mate.

"No, I'm not!" Charles cried. "And what about you, miss Snow Queen?"

"No, I'm not!"

"I know you are not! I saw it in the post-op! I saw you shouting at Pierce to come back!" cried Charles, his eyes filling with tears, as well as BJ's who had tapped the Major's shoulder encouragingly. "Why don't you want to give a single chance to me? Why do you think it took me so long to join you in the OR and in the post-op after out small conversation in the showers? It was not coffee you had undoubtedly thought…"

For the first time of the last 5 minutes silence fell on the room. Feeling that he might not have another opportunity to clench the argument, BJ hurried to interfere.

"Charles, I apologize for my behavior last night, I was totally engulfed by my self-pity and stayed oblivious to the others' feelings." he said.

"Everything's fine BJ," Charles answered, "you're not the only one to blame. As I said last night I had not worked hard on expressing my concern." he continued bitterly, looking BJ straight in the eyes, "my only regret at the moment."

"Then don't be surprised by the way Margaret treats you." BJ said, "And I'm not defending her," he added predicting the surgeon's unspoken question, "just stating a fact. I didn't see your hidden true self in the first place either."

Charles opened his mouth as if for a snide remark, but in a second his face cleared and some other words escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry Margaret," he said to her, "All we need now is Pierce back to normal."

The head nurse looked absolutely taken aback by the Major's confession. She looked at BJ and Charles as if she had never seen these men before.

"Margaret! Are you with us?"

She nodded her eyes still wide with shock.

BJ sighed. It's been the most frightening and the strangest time in his life. "Hawkeye will never guess what a swirl of feeling and emotions we all revealed." he smirked.

"He will," said Margaret smiling slightly, "his first question when he wakes up will be "What did I miss?", and I will not stand long to tell him everything."

BJ laughed "Don't worry Major, I think none of us will stand long." he passed his eyes on Charles who murmured "I won't even try."

"Listen," BJ said at last, "I'm not fully myself right now yet, but seeing your battle I understood that it wouldn't help us save Hawkeye and wouldn't do us any good either…"

"Good to hear you've got your mind back BJ!"

All three of them turned in the direction of the voice to see Colonel Potter standing in the doorway.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long." he said sarcastically.

"Colonel, I…"

"It's okay Major. I understand that you'd been… let's say, carried away."

"I'm sorry sir."

"Don't be," Potter answered, "We have a couple a couple of minutes to dot all the "i"s and not to return to these stupid conflicts of yours." BJ felt shivers run down his spine when the old man had passed his piercing gaze upon him. Winchester and Margaret were standing each by his sides now and the Captain felt them shiver as well.

"Winchester," said Potter, pinning the Major to his place, "we all know that behind your snobbish exterior you're a good friend and a carrying person. Just try to show it more often."

At these words the Majors eyes immediately grew moist and he frantically wiped his face with his sleeve. Meanwhile, Potter passed his attention to Margaret.

"Major," he said, "We all know that you feel uneasy when it comes to sharing your true feelings with the others. During your marriage and after your divorce it's always been Pierce who managed to get inside your soul." he paused as if choosing the right word, "I think it's high time you tried to trust us," he continued, his tone much softer, "we deserved your trust. Try us Margaret, we won't let you down."

Not even bothering with the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, Margaret nodded.

Potter looked at BJ and the latter understood that his turn had come. "I know what you're going to say Colonel." he said jumping ahead of his CO, "I remember everything you told me, I feel better now."

"I see it son," Potter answered, "and I'm proud of you. I'm actually proud of all of you. Now, let us stop the arguments and go to the OR."

Just as Potter finished his speech, Kellye entered the ward, "He's ready Colonel." she said.

"Good." Potter answered, "Stay here Lieutenant, take the post-op for a while and I'll send somebody to release you."

With an energetic "yes sir" Kellye went to her post at the desk.

"I'll update you on Pierce's condition while you're scrubbing," the older man said to the others, "Winchester, take the anesthesiologist's role now," he smiled, "we won't persuade Hunnicutt to do it for the second time anyway."

"What are you going to do?" Margaret asked him when he finished.

"I'll spread the news to the others; we can't hold it any longer." Potter answered.

"Sounds like a plan," she said decisively, "let's go."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, I'm really nervous about my laguage, but it was the best I could do now)))**

**The story is coming to a close now. I hope you'll like the ending. I tried to cover all the loose ends and leave only one for the my future last chapter. **

**Please, R&R, and tell me if I missed anything.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MASH, but I like it)))**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"Come on! What are you two waiting for?" Margaret shouted over her shoulder.

Potter, BJ and Charles exchangedglances and silently watched their head nurse stride toward the entrance and disappear behind the doors. BJ was the first to follow shouting the other men to hurry.

"Is everything clear?"

"Yes Colonel." BJ answered frantically scrubbing his arms, "If we did miss a bleeder, we'll find it."

Potter nodded, "I won't even doubt it." he said when he reached the front door, "Good luck."

The Colonel turned on his heel and left the three officers finish their scrubbing.

"Let's see what Hawkeye is made of." said BJ pushing through the double doors, "Are you ready Charles?"

Charles suppressed a nervous chuckle. In his attempt to defuse the tension BJ had unintentionally hit the most painful spot. This would have been a very funny topic to discuss if it was not the exact thing Winchester was desperately trying to avoid. Disgusted by his own thoughts and burning with shame, he caught himself wishing with all his heart not to participate in this operation. The cause of his sudden desire to cowardly turn his tail was not the previous fear to let Pierce down, but the fact that he had already done it. What could have gone wrong? He checked and rechecked all his stitches, he was sure of it. Did his pride and his enormous ego deceive his senses?

Feeling the silence draw far too long, Charles looked at BJ. The man looked back as if expecting a reply to his joke. "I'm ready Hunnicutt," he decided to answer, "But you'll find nothing we might not have, believe me."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Charles." BJ answered with a sigh when Margaret helped him put on the gloves, "We don't need to be operated on, I guess it makes Hawkeye's state is slightly more unusual than it should be."

"_And the one to blame is Me."_ Charles thought. He refrained just a second before these words could escape his lips. Potter's news about the bloody drainage stuck in his mind, spreading through all his body like some deadly poison. Sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather outside filled his chest, for the second time of the last couple of days.

"Charles!" BJ's voice nearly made him jump.

"What is it?"

"May I begin?" the Captain asked.

The question sounded much weaker and softer than the Major's name. BJ must have spent all his power trying to attract Charles's attention and had not yet refilled the energy. Charles looked at his tent mate curiously. Despite the casual air he applied to his tone the Captain looked absolutely miserable: his bright blue eyes were red with dark shadows around them, his young face looked ten years older and there was a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin. _"What's going on inside Hunnicutt's head right now? It seems, I'm not the only one here whose heart is about to rip apart."_

"All is ready, Hunnicutt," Charles answered pressing his stethoscope to Hawkeye's pulse point, "the vitals are stable."

"Let's start then." BJ froze for about ten seconds as if to compose himself and bent over his patient. "Thanks Heaven the Colonel was quick to notice the blood, it could have been much worse if he hadn't." he murmured doing the first cut, "We could easily miss it because of his stable vital signs."

"I'm sorry, it's probably one of my stitches." said Charles carefully. He didn't want them to know about the new stage of his guilt. He was tired of the quarrels and feared Margaret's reaction. _"Oh, don't begin this self loathing, Charles,"_ she would snap reminding him about their agreement to put it off until Pierce gets better.

To his great surprise the Major's words proved him wrong. "There's nothing to be sorry for Charles." she said.

"Why so?" he asked passing his attention to the nurse. She did not look better either, her face was whiter than her mask, her hands were trembling and the sight of blood was apparently making her sick. For the first time did Winchester see the head nurse of their MASH unit, their double natural, as Pierce used to call it, being afraid of blood.

"Everybody makes mistakes Charles, you're not a machine." Margaret answered simply, "you do remember how tricky the whole operation appeared to be, don't you?"

"_It doesn'__t change anything, it was Me who failed." _Winchester shook his head and tried to concentrate on what was going on. "Thank you Major, but your argument doesn't make my worry easier."

"Neither has it made mine." echoed BJ, "I still think that I had messed everything up."

"How could you have?" asked Charles in astonishment, completely forgetting about his own sad thoughts. "It was I who operated on Pierce…"

"And it was I who nearly lost him on our ride to the camp…" BJ interjected.

"And it was I who wasted so much time because of my fears…" objected Charles.

"And it was I who had stolen this time of yours spilling out my emotions…" joined Margaret.

"And we think it's high time for you three to shut up and start working!"

BJ, Charles and Margaret raised their heads looking for the owner of the voice they had just heard. In a moment Winchester's eyes fell on Colonel Potter with Father Mulcahy and Klinger, standing like guardians at his sides.

"This is truly ridiculous!" the Colonel cried, piercing each of his officers with an icy glare. There was something in his eyes that told Winchester that they all were in deep trouble. "You didn't even notice Mulcahy leave and enter the room!" Potter continued his tirade, "You didn't see Klinger rush out of the OR to catch me and bring me here before you end up blaming yourself for the deadly sins!"

Margaret opened her mouth as if to say something in her defense but was immediately cut short by Father Mulcahy, whose self-control began to stagger under his emotions.

"Look at yourself!" the priest's angry voice reverberated through the room, "Even children can behave themselves when it's needed! Haven't you forgotten about you patient yet? Your quarrels seem to leave you little time to think about such trifles as Hawkeye's condition!"

Charles's ears were burning with shame and guilt. He felt extremely sick and tried to avoid looking in Mulcahy's eyes, fearing to find nothing but disappointment written on the priest's face. He lingered his gaze on his companions instead and saw that the feeling was apparently mutual. Seeing the expectant gazes on himself, Winchester instantly inserted the earpieces and pressed the stethoscope to Hawkeye's carotid artery, desperately waiting for the Captain's heartbeat to carry to his ears. Relief filled his whole body when he found Hawkeye's pulse strong and steady.

"He's fine." the Major said releasing the breath he had been holding. Charles saw BJ and Margaret smile under their masks.

Then BJ took a deep breath and turned to Potter. "It's not as easy as we initially thought," he murmured, "I mean…" he paused as if choosing the right words, "I actually thought I was fine, but everything's more difficult when you meet your fears… so to say, in flesh…"

"I know what you mean, son," said Potter calmly, "and I don't expect you overcome your stress so easily, but you must try to keep your emotions at bay, for Hawkeye's sake at least."

There was a long silence before Charles found his voice for an answer.

"Thank you, Colonel." he said. BJ and Margaret nodded.

"You are welcome, Winchester," Potter answered, "now, let's patch our leaking friend up and put him on his legs before we all go mad."

"Yes Colonel," BJ smiled sadly, "but I'm afraid it's already too late."

It was evening. By that time, the snow that had begun falling several hours before lay on the icy ground like a thick white blanket. This kind of weather could be nothing but a Christmas present as it changed the camp completely. All of a sudden the whole place looked like it had been enchanted. Fluffy snowcaps, silvered trees and bushes, swirling snowflakes transformed it into a magic northern village where miracles were more common than the sunrise. There was no a Christmas tree though, neither there were mistletoes. Nobody bothered to decorate the doors with garlands and, of course, nobody even thought of singing Christmas Carrols. All was peaceful and absolutely still.

The night finally fell and the empty compound was soon plunged into darkness. Only two buildings in the whole MASH unit provided that little illumination that saved it from looking dead, the post-op ward and the mess tent. Never had the latter been so crowded and quiet at the same time. BJ sighed and closed his hands around the steaming cup hoping that it would warm his numb fingers. It didn't help though; he was still cold and tired. He knew perfectly well that the weather was not the one to blame for his state, the main culprit was fear.

Hawkeye's condition was stable and the operation went rather smoothly, much better than the previous one. It appeared that Winchester's stitches were not the cause of the bleeding and BJ managed to find the source rather quickly. The hole was not big and well-hidden, explaining why it didn't make too much harm and why they had missed it in the first place. Assured that Hawkeye was still alive, Potter and Father Mulcahy left to spread the news to the others.

"_I hope you can cope with the rest by yourself," _the Colonel's voice was stern, but his eyes betrayed him, suggesting that he did not mean what he said,_ "and I won't be interrupted again by Klinger reporting that you had started a fight." _

So it was that transporting their friend to the post-op, the surgeons and the nurse were met by almost the whole camp waiting for them in the ward. After updating the MASH inhabitants on the chief surgeon's current condition and sending most of them away, they all took seats around their friend's cot to keep vigil. They didn't speak; neither did they even look at each other. All were drifting somewhere deep in their thoughts.

It was already late in the evening when Potter, Mulcahy and Klinger entered the ward, grabbed the trio and dragged them to the mess tent. There was no point in arguing and assuring their CO that they were fine and did not want to eat, he would not believe them anyway. So BJ simply let the Colonel lead him to an empty table that, BJ guessed, had been spared just for them and set him down with Winchester and Margaret on each side. They didn't speak did not even show any reaction when Klinger put three cups of coffee on the table saying something about having dinner. All they wanted was to come back to the post-op and be with their friend…

"May I have you attention please?"

BJ raised his eyes from the cup he had been squeezing all this time and saw Colonel Potter, worry mixed with determination on his face. He cleared his throat before beginning his speech.

"Hello everyone," he said at last, "I suppose all of you remember that today is actually a Christmas Eve," the response that he got was grave silence and nobody dared breaking it, nobody, except Charles.

"Colonel, don't you think this is not the time for celebrations?" he asked quietly.

Potter lingered his eyes on him and BJ felt him start under his gaze.

"I'm the CO here, Major, and I have my responsibilities and I'm in charge of morale of this place."

"But…"

"Whatever happens…" Potter cleared his throat again, "we must not forget about our duties!" he paused, "We promised to organize a Christmas party for the orphanage and I'm determined to keep this promise."

"Colonel, do you really think that it is a good idea?" asked BJ.

"I don't think so, son," Potter answered grimly, "but I did promise, so did Father Mulcahy. He's organizing the transportation right now. Those children deserved a Christmas party, and I will make sure they get it!"

BJ looked at Margaret hoping that the nurse would knock some sense into the old man, but saw her rubbing her eyes. It might have been a hard moment for the Major. She was definitely on the verge of a breakdown, but could not afford crying in front of the full tent of people.

BJ felt sorry for her and decided that the least he could do was to give her a handkerchief. He thrust his hand inside his pocket trying to locate it, but found a flat square object instead. He took it out. It was a letter, Hawkeye's letter. He remembered how he got it and the memory brought more burning to his eyes. _Klinger gives BJ the letters and asks him to pass one to Hawkeye._ With all that happened to his best friend he had completely forgotten about it. The Captain looked at the address and saw that the letter was from Hawkeye's father. The envelope was thick and rather heavy. Would it be good if BJ opened it? What if it's the document he and Hawkeye were waiting for? Remembering that day, BJ tore the envelope open without hesitation.

"_Beej!" _

_The first day__ of November met the Swampmen with cold wind, heavy rain and the most terrible hangover they had ever suffered from before. BJ's throat was dry as desert and he could not help but consider the idea of sewing up his mouth. A quick look at Winchester proved his condition to be the same as BJ's. Hawkeye, however, seemed to feel much better than his tent mates._

"_Why are you so disgustingly fresh and cheerful?"_

"_Sorry, Beej, not my fault," Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders, "my drinking marathon was rudely interrupted by my father's call. His good news must have saved me from all the agony of the after-party-morning."_

"_Good for you," murmured BJ, "so, what's the news?"_

"_My dad found the sponsor."_

_BJ's tired brain was slow to digest the information at__ first, but as soon as the sense dawned on him, it began waking up._

"_You're kidding!" BJ screamed jumping on his cot. _

"_No, I'm not!" Hawkeye smiled, "__Captain Tuttle's work has never been forgotten, now it's time for us to take the helm. _

"BJ? What are you reading?"

Margaret's loud voice suddenly filled BJ's ears and he nearly fell from his chair. He folded the letter quickly and hid it in his pocket.

"Oh, it's nothing, just a letter from Hawk's father. I'll give it to him when he wakes up." he answered, wiping the image of the grinning Hawkeye from his mind. "When are the children due to arrive, Colonel?" he finally asked.

"In two hours." answered Potter.

"Good, let's get ready to meet them."

Potter looked at him in bewilderment, "Why did you change your mind?"

It was not the time to share their secret with the others, most certainly not with the whole camp. "I changed it for Hawk's sake." BJ finally answered, "I'm sorry, Colonel, perhaps I'll tell you when Hawk is back with us; it's mostly his business than mine…"

Potter narrowed his eyes but didn't give any comments. "Alright then," he said, "let's get going people! We have a MASH unit to prepare for Christmas!"

"BJ!"

It was half past eleven, the holy Christmas night was about to come. BJ was sitting in the corner of the mess tent nursing one single thought in his mind – "how to escape". The jolly festive atmosphere of the approaching holiday somehow made him sick. "It's not fair!" he said through his teeth, "Hawk did so much for them and now he can't even be here!" He knew that he was probably a party pooper but couldn't help it. Hawkeye's happy face was fresh in his mind, reminding him what could have been if his friend hadn't had that accident, if he had returned to the unit safe and sound to organize what they had been planning for a month.

The solution to his problem finally arrived when Margaret called his name.

"BJ!" she shouted louder.

"What?"

"Can you take her to the post op?" Margaret pushed her way through the crowd carrying a girl, not older than six, on her arms. "She fell asleep."

"Yes why not." he answered.

"Thank you BJ," she smiled, "And I think there's no point for you to hurry, take your time." She looked BJ directly in the eyes and went away.

Ones in the post op BJ lay the sleeping girl on an empty cot; the one Charles slept on, and took his post near Hawkeye.

"How is he?" he asked the nurse on duty.

"Stable," she answered, "but she hasn't even stirred yet."

BJ nodded in understanding. "Go to the mess tent lieutenant," he said, "I'll take the shift."

Seeing her hesitate, he added "I'm perfectly fine, don't worry."

Having wished him a Merry Christmas, she left. Alone at last, BJ closed his eyes, took Hawkeye's hand and squeezed it gently. "You really need to wake up Hawk," he whispered, "we did it, you and your father did it. He organized everything. He's apparently expecting a letter or a phone call from you; it must be you, not me or anyone in this camp. Please, Hawk, wake up and don't make your old father worry, do it for all of us." Suddenly BJ heard footsteps. Turning around he saw Charles, Margaret, Potter, Klinger and Mulcahy standing in the doorway.

"Don't you think that we will leave you two alone?" asked Margaret, successfully predicting the question that was about to form on BJ's mouth. "It's almost midnight BJ, and it's high time to make a wish."

"There's only one wish that comes to my mind right now." BJ answered.

"What a coincidence!" said Potter, taking more chairs and placing them near their unconscious chief surgeon's bed. "Our wishes are exactly the same as yours, does it make it stronger?"

"I does." BJ smiled.

They were sitting in uneasy silence, it was almost deafening but they didn't know what to say. They have already said and heard a lot, more than they expected. Now the time for words was over. The sacred moment was closer and closer, the moment that gives hope for everybody who needs it.

"One minute." said Charles.

BJ closed his eyes and held his breath. Everybody looked at Hawkeye who was as still as before.

BJ was restless, "Oh, please Hawk, don't let me down! You can do it!"

"Father, why don't you try?" asked Potter.

"Yes Colonel, but it worked only once." answered Mulcahy

"I remember it," said Margaret, "it was Hawkeye who asked you to try and it really worked," she looked at the priest, "do it for Hawkeye now."

Mulcahy nodded and took the surgeon's cold hand.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" said Potter.

"Merry Christmas!" they repeated in unison.

Suddenly they saw Hawkeye's hand twitch in Mulcahy's and, as soon as the astonished priest put it back on the cot, his eyes opened.

"Hawk!" cried BJ, frantically grabbing his stethoscope, "do you hear me?"

Hawkeye blinked and focused his gaze on BJ's worried face.

"Beej," he murmured, "what happened?"

"Many things happened, Pierce." said Potter, grinning from ear to ear, "we'll tell you later."

"Oh, please don't tell me that I missed Christmas!"

"You didn't Hawk," said BJ, "you're right on time."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Don't pay much attention to the content in the previous chapters. I corrected some mistake, I just couldn't leave them like this.**

**I know, it took me long to update, but I have something to reward you with, my final chapter and a short epilogue!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: not mine)**

* * *

**Chapter**** 12 **

The bright midday sun rose high above the horizon, but it was not helping much. Reining the whole planet as a huge, hot and powerful star of the day, it could not compete with the thick clouds that hung over one small country. Late Christmas morning brought more surprises to those unfortunate who had appeared to live in this part of the world called Korean Peninsula. As soon as the dark shroud clouded the sky, the wind went absolutely out of control. It was storming and raging like an unleashed beast, wild and dangerous.

There were no fluffy snowcaps anymore, neither did the snow cover the ground. It was in the air now, effectively blocking the road like a solid white wall. Thick, impenetrable blizzard and the cement sky above it served the only scenery for the MASH personnel if any of them dared attempting an early holiday promenade. There was no, however, a single movement of a living soul in the camp. When walking in such weather was definitely the wrong choice for the morning activity, driving and especially flying were absolutely out of the question. It would be a miracle if a vehicle or even a person were not blown down from the road. There was absolutely no chance for anybody to reach or leave the unit. The whole personnel of the 4077th were trapped in the middle of this gale like in a huge sphere filled with swirling snow.

The "Double natural" has never faced such a strange day through all its history. The reason that made the case very peculiar and absolutely unprecedented was not the changeable weather… but the fact that nobody appeared to have noticed it. While the raging wind was trying hard to destroy the hospital the MASH inhabitants were peacefully sleeping in the mess tent.

All, except one…

Somewhere in the very depth of this whiteness a door opened and a tall cloaked figure stepped outside. The figure looked around nervously trying to wrap its cloak tightly around the shoulders. "What the hell is this?" Judging by the voice that followed the figure's appearance in the middle of the snowstorm, it was definitely a man. "I hate this climate." the man muttered desperately seeking warm and comfort in his cloak. Soon, less than in a minute his face turned red with white eyebrows and bushy moustache above his upper lip. He swayed and grabbed the nearby trash can for support, but balance was definitely a tremendous feat for him, as the wind gusted from all quarters. He swore when a particular strong blow tore off his cover. Shivering more violently than ever, he went to the spot it had landed. It was not a cloak or a robe, it was a blanket. Sending more curses to the foul weather the newly coverless Captain BJ Hunnicutt bent over to pick what was left of his cover up and found it completely soaked. There was no use wearing it anymore lest the only "present" he could get would be a severe case of pneumonia. Not seeing another solution to his problem, the Captain went back to the place he had appeared from.

When the freezing surgeon got under the protection of the mess tent, he felt it vibrate with a strange buzzing. The scene in front of him was really priceless: their beloved tent was filled with snoring bodies, peacefully sleeping on the numerous tables and benches. BJ could not help but roar with laughter when Klinger's and Zale's snoring reached an incredulously high point. The two men seemed to have entered some sort of fray trying to "outsnore" each other down. The combined forces of the Sergeant and the Corporal successfully blocked all the sounds coming from the wailing wind outside. "No wonder the storm caught me off guard," the Captain sighed, "I was just hoping to cross the compound and now my only source of warmth is gone."

BJ looked at his blanket with pity. There was no way he could use it now and looking for another one in such conditions was out of the question.

Being an officer and a gentleman, he lent his winter jacket, which he had successfully bought a couple of months before, to a small girl. He simply could not see the poor child freeze to death. Seeing his gesture, Charles did the same, but, unlike BJ, the Major did have a spare parka while the Captain had none. His old winter clothes were lost during their latest bug out, just like it happened ones with Klinger's dresses. This time, however, the kind-hearted surgeon gave his jacket to a young woman in the village of their temporary residence. The poor girl's husband was killed and she was left to face the approaching winter alone with her baby. BJ bought a new one as soon as they returned to the unit.

To his credit, Winchester offered to share some of his clothes with his tent mate, but the latter refused saying that there were others that might need it more, while he could handle one night with a blanket. How wrong he was!

Soon after midnight they decided to send their little guests to bed and give them their cots, nobody in the camp felt tired anyway. Hawkeye's dramatic return to the land of living was with one accord considered to be a Christmas miracle and, having prepared everything for the children, they all gathered in the mess tent to celebrate. Their party didn't last long though. Tired of all the work they had done for the last weeks and the depressing news that came afterwards, the camp finally gave in and fell asleep. Before the party started the surgeons carefully planned their shifts so that they would not leave Hawkeye alone. Potter was the first to take the shift. Now it ended and it was BJ's turn to pick up the slack.

Encouraged by the thought that the post-op was not so far, the surgeon took a deep breath and dashed across the compound to the main building.

The post-op was still and quiet. The atmosphere of serenity and peaceful slumber was definitely reining the place. The lights were dimmed, safe for a small table lamp standing on the desk in the corner. All the occupants of the room were asleep, except Colonel Potter, who was sitting at the desk with a book in his hands. The old man consulted his watch, took his stethoscope, stood up and went to check on his patients. There were three of them, two soldiers and Hawkeye. Four empty cots proved themselves useful when four children still lacked their bunks. Margaret and Mulcahy laughed remembering Radar organizing all the sleeping places for children in the officers' club and in the supply tent when the camp was invaded with wounded. Now, when the ward was almost empty, they could easily get along without these strange places definitely not meant for a child to spend the night in. There were a couple of spare tents left, but, choosing between them and the post-op, the head nurse took the second. Those tents were the farthest from the main building, while the post-op was warmer, with a doctor present to look after the kids.

The fifth one among the recently empty cots was not actually empty anymore. It was occupied by the head nurse herself, and, judging by the Colonel's beaming face, the fact that she had fallen asleep, was definitely a feather in his cap.

Potter was just about to pass to checking on Hawkeye when a gust of fresh freezing air swept through his back. The old man turned around and saw BJ shaking of snow from his shoulders and head.

"What took you so long?" was the first question that the Colonel asked, then his eyes widened and his face blanched when the realization of what he had just seen dawned on him. "Are you mad?" he hissed through his teeth, nearly jumping from the stool next to Hawkeye's cot, "Do you want to catch a cold or anything worse?"

"Nothing of the sort, Colonel," BJ answered panting, "but I had no choice."

Potter narrowed his eyes but did not continue pressing the subject and turned to Hawkeye instead.

"How is he?" asked BJ motioning to the sleeping form of his best friend.

"Hasn't woken up yet, since you left," the older man paused concentrating on the surgeon's heartbeat thumping in his ears, "so you're probably lucky to have him awake during your shift." He finished and hung his stethoscope over his neck. "The vitals are stable and almost normal." he announced.

BJ sighed with relief, "Good to hear it, I was worried."

"I see," said Potter sarcastically, piercing the Captain with a critical eye, "you were definitely worried that you let yourself enjoy such "wonderful" weather when the only articles of your winter clothing were your hat and gloves."

BJ smiled apologetically, but seeing his CO's grim expression, he decided to change the subject, "Go get some rest Colonel, you've spent here all night."

As if to prove the Captain's words Potter's eyelids slowly began to close. He stood up stretching and simultaneously pressing his palm to his mouth to hide a yawn that was about to come.

"Okay," he said at last, "you won, Hunnicutt. I'm going to bed. We can't do anything with this storm anyway," he smirked, "just wait till this hell is over."

"Don't worry Colonel, I'm a big boy."

"I clearly doubt it."

"Ha, ha! Go to sleep Colonel, I'll take care of Hawk and of our stubborn sleeping princess." He nodded in the direction of Margaret.

"Good luck to you." Potter chuckled, "I personally wouldn't like to be in your place when she wakes up."

"How long has she been asleep and how much time has passed since you promised to wake her?"

"Let me see… She's asleep for six hours already and I have no intention to interrupt her rest." the Colonel grinned passing his gaze onto the still head nurse, "And I promised to wake her five hours earlier." His grin grew wider and his eyes flashed with amusement.

BJ's eyebrows rose "Then go as far as you can," he said mockingly, "the "Hurricane Margaret" is far more dangerous than that gentle breeze outside."

As soon as the last words escaped the Captain's lips the "breeze" gave a particularly shrieking wail so loud and frightening that the surgeons covered their ears.

"I think I don't want to know what "Hurricane Margaret" can do if this is just a breeze," said Potter wrapping himself tightly into his parka, "where I can go to sleep, by the way?"

"To your tent Colonel," laughed BJ, "our fearless leader deserves some privacy after such a though shift."

"But…"

"This was my, Margaret's and Winchester's mutual decision."

"Hunnicutt…"

"We just want to thank you for your therapy and your support, Colonel. You always know what to say."

Potter's eye filled with tears and he rubbed them quickly, "It was a nightmare we'd all been through, I'm just happy that it's over."

"I hope you're right Colonel." said BJ, fixing his eyes on his best friend, silently begging him to wake up and prove that the Christmas miracle of the previous night had not been one of the cruel tricks of his imagination.

"Believe me, son," said Potter quietly, "even if we did have a rather frosty Christmas this year, the storm won't last forever, even this wind will change."

"Thank you Colonel," said BJ, his own eyes wet with tears, "now go to your tent, you've been pushing your luck for too long already and our lovely Major may wake up any time now."

Potter nodded and left the room.

BJ watched the older man disappear behind the double doors when Hawkeye's voice caught all his attention.

"It was so sweet and beautiful!"

BJ spun around to meet the surgeon's smiling face when he said these words, but his eyes were still closed.

"You're awake!"

"Your observational skills never cease to amaze me." the raven haired man answered, slowly opening his eyes. He looked at his friend as if expecting a snide comment, but received none.

The only thing that mattered for BJ at that moment was the fact that not only Hawkeye's health had improved but his sense of humor seemed to have been left unharmed.

"How long have you been awake, Hawk?" BJ asked his friend.

"Long enough to understand how tough these days have been for all of you." the surgeon answered seriously.

"Don't think about it right now Hawk, all you need now is to get better." said BJ taking his place on the stool Potter had vacated.

"Who operated on me, you or Winchester?"

"Both" answered BJ simply. Seeing that his friend's blue eyes double in their size, he decided to explain. "We operated on you twice," he said, "there was one hole we had missed first time."

"But…"

"Hawk, I can't make myself go through this again," BJ cut in, "I'll tell you sometime later."

"Okay, I won't push," agreed Hawkeye, "perhaps you don't need to say it to me at all if it's too personal."

"Thank you mate," BJ paused when a thought came to his mind, "please, don't be hard on Charles, he's far better than he may seem."

"I know it Beej, believe me, I know."

BJ looked into his friend's eyes and saw a glimpse of recognition, as if Hawkeye knew something about Charles's true nature as well as all his fears. His first desire was to ask his friend about everything he knew thinking that it would help him understand Charles better. After all their arguments of the previous several days, BJ longed to know more. Now, seeing his friend's eyes, full of determination and complete understanding, he knew how much he had missed. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, he chose not to get into their business. Hawkeye had his own memories and his own experience that had helped his and Charles's mutual respect and, perhaps, friendship to start. BJ now had his. All the memories, fears and emotions they had to share, allowed them to find a true friend in each other and he was grateful for it.

"I'm afraid to ask, but did the children come to the party, I think I heard Potter talking to a girl during his shift?" Hawkeye asked, startling BJ from his thoughts.

"Yes, they did," BJ answered, "but the party did not last long and they are sleeping now."

BJ saw another question forming on his friend lips and hurried with the answer.

"I received a letter from you father."

"Did you open it?"

The question took BJ aback. Did he have the right to open the letter? "Sorry Hawk, I decided to take a look…" said BJ hesitantly.

"Relax Beej, I'm not angry, I'm just curious." Hawkeye cut him off.

BJ looked at his friend's face more closely and saw the all too familiar twinkle in his eyes, the same twinkle he was afraid he would never see again. Seeing his best friend alive the Captain could not help but let the smile spread on his face and warm tears come to his eyes. He grabbed Hawkeye's wrist to make sure that it was not a dream. He sighed with relief when he felt a steady beating against his fingers.

"I'm glad that you're alive Hawk," he said at last, "we couldn't even imagine what would have happened if we had lost you."

Hawkeye closed his own fingers around BJ's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay Beej. I'm fine." he said, "I'm alive, thanks to all of you."

BJ managed a curt nod.

Hawkeye looked at him with concern, but in a moment his expression changed. This was the same expression he wore when he was agog planning a practical joke or another mischief.

"Tell me about the letter!" he commanded.

BJ laughed seeing what anticipation now burned inside his friend. "Well, there was a document…" he said leisurely.

"Beej! You don't want to jeopardize my health by making me wait!"

Now BJ practically roared with laughter. These were the exact words he hoped to hear from his friend. Hawkeye did not let him down.

"Okay, okay," BJ raised his hands in defeat, "let's pass strict to the point."

"It's about time." grumbled Hawkeye.

Ignoring his friend's comment, BJ continued on his tale.

"The document was from Mr. Sheffield, he's sending the supplies!"

Hawkeye beamed, "I told you it was a lucky day not only for Mr. Sheffield to meet my father!"

"Yeah, it was," answered BJ grinning like a maniac, "I remember the morning you told me… I thought I hadn't heard you properly."

Hawkeye smirked, "I'm surprised you could have, you hangover should have clogged your head completely."

"Ha-ha!"

"What exactly was in the letter?"

"They hoped that it would reach us before Christmas, so we could announce the good news during the Christmas party, as we had planned… But we still can do it now or better during the New Year party, the Colonel will surely keep the children here till the holidays end. He won't send them to the orphanage in such weather." BJ added seeing Hawkeye's guilty expression. "You did nothing wrong, Hawk, our plan is not ruined."

Hawkeye's features visibly relaxed, "Yeah! We'll have a great New Year party for it."

"Do you still insist that we tell them the donation was from Captain Tuttle's fund?"

"Yes," answered Hawkeye, his eyes dancing with amusement, "I own it Johnny, he was such a fine guy!"

BJ laughed, "I'm still impressed nobody discovered that you had imagined him."

"We did a good job to hide it," Hawkeye chuckled, "besides, Dad and Mr. Sheffield decided to leave it like this."

"Okay." BJ agreed, "You did a fine job, Hawk!"

"My father did, Beej." Hawkeye grew serious, "When I sent him that letter telling him all about our attempt to do something for the orphanage and ending up with an imaginary Captain to kill, he decided to find a good sponsor himself. He almost gave up hope, you know, until one rainy October night when he delivered Mr. Sheffield's grandchildren. The delivery was a hard one, but Dad saved them both, as well as their mother."

Hawkeye paused, thinking of his father, BJ guessed. Then he remembered one thing he had not asked before. "But how did your father persuade him?"

Hawkeye woke from his own thoughts with a start and BJ noticed that his friend's eyelids began to close. Hawkeye was still very weak for such long talks.

"It was not a difficult task," the raven haired man answered sleepily, "they talked a lot about everything. Dad told Sheffield about me, about us, about our little game. It was the millionaire himself who offered this donation."

BJ nodded grabbing his stethoscope, "I think it's time for you to take some rest my friend." he said.

"Wait! Wait! So, what exactly did Mr. Sheffield decide to donate the orphanage with?" Hawkeye asked, desperately fighting the upcoming fatigue, "I don't know all the details."

"According to the document, the children will get money, new clothes, food and a new, fully equipped building for the orphanage."

"Good! I knew that Santa existed."

BJ chucked and went to check on the other patients when his friend finally fell asleep.

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**...**


	13. Epilogue

**This is the end. As I promised, I finished the story even if it took me so much time.**

**Please review! I want to know what you think of the last chapters and the whole story also.**

******I tried to mix the feeling of fear and guilt with the characters' personalities. I really need to know if each reaction to all of this looked natural as well as the way they tried to overcome their fears. **

**Thank you very much for all your kind words! **

**It was you guys, who gave me this desire to write. If you're not tired of me, I'll write more. I actually have a couple of ideas. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I wish it were mine, but it's not. **

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**Epilogue**

"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Hawk…"

"Oh, don't be a mother hen Beej!" snorted Hawkeye, "You offered it, if I remember correctly."

"I know, I know!" BJ replied with irritation, "I just wanted to comfort you, but I didn't think you would actually go to the party."

"You did mean what you were saying Beej," Hawkeye objected, "and now you're just trying to back down. Besides, I'm not _going_ to the party, I'm sitting in this stupid wheel chair!"

"I still think it can be too much for you…"

The calm and annoyingly persistent tone of his friend was gradually getting to his nerves. Every inch of his mind and body was ready to scream. After one day in the post-op, the surgeon was ready to admit that the worst times of him getting wounded were only about to come. He was condemned to spend all his time in the embrace of the greatest and the cruelest enemy of his – boredom. It was unbearable.

"Okay, Dad, I'll be home before dark." he huffed in frustration.

"Go on monkeying around and you'll go back right now!" roared BJ.

It was not the reply he was hoping to get. He wanted to make a joke, but his tone must have betrayed the true meaning of his words. Never before had he felt such venom in BJ's words. Hawkeye looked up and saw tears in his friend's eyes. BJ was obviously angry with him. The expression on his mate's face scared Hawkeye. It was the picture of anguish and despair. For the first time the surgeon thought that he had probably gone too far.

"I'm sorry BJ." he said at last, his throat dry with guilt.

"Don't be Hawk…" BJ replied after a pause, "but you must understand that we almost lost you..."

Hawkeye heard his friend sniffle and tried to pat his shoulder but, from his sitting position, managed to reach only his elbow. However, when BJ put his own hand on Hawkeye's and rubbed it gently, the raven haired surgeon understood that he had been forgiven.

They continued on their way to the mess tent when they heard a voice.

"Captain Pierce! Captain Hunnicutt!"

The captains looked around searching the source of the voice and soon found it running in their direction. It was Robinson, tall and lanky as Hawkeye remembered him. He knew everything now. Potter told him about the lieutenant's role in the whole rescue mission and the way it affected him.

"I've just got here," the man reported panting heavily, "I wanted to come earlier, but, as you may guess, the weather conditions were against me. I'm glad that the storm is finally over."

"Better late than never, lieutenant," BJ answered cheerfully, "how is your chopper?"

"Oh, good Captain, I'll have it repaired after the holidays," Robinson answered not taking his eyes off Hawkeye.

"I'm fine Stan." said Hawkeye successfully predicting the pilot's question. He stretched his hand and the young man gratefully shook it. There were no words needed to fill this moment, everything had already been said and done.

"Well, let's go." Hawkeye said at last.

Robinson smiled and hurried to open the door to the mess tent so that BJ could wheel Hawkeye inside. As soon as they entered, the tent exploded with cheers. BJ pushed the chair through the crowd, finally getting to the very center of the room.

Now Hawkeye felt really nervous. Boredom was not the one thing he had to cope with, the other was the option of being a patient in his own hospital. He wanted to get out of the post-op as soon as possible, but, unfortunately, his body felt otherwise. The surgeon was still very weak to even raise his hand, not to mention moving around. There was not a single person in the camp who had not yet visited him, the most welcomed though were the visits from BJ, Margaret, Winchester, Potter, Klinger and Father Mulcahy. They were his closest friends in this hell that they had already got used to call "home". Three days after Christmas, BJ apparently decided to tell his friend about the fights that took place while he was out. Frankly speaking, Hawkeye was not surprised by Margaret's and Winchester's behavior, he knew perfectly well what kind and caring people they really were. He talked to each of them during their shifts. Margaret told him about her dream, while Charles admitted the fear he endured when Hawkeye's heard had stopped. Hawkeye was proud as a peacock when the Major said that it was one of the most frightening moments in his life, losing not a patient, but a friend.

Talking to his friends and seeing all these wonderful changes was the only thing that actually raised the surgeon's spirit. Being stuck in the post-op was definitely not the way he wanted to spend these holidays. Nobody agreed with his statement that he could be moved to the Swamp. They all wanted to keep him under close observation. The only reason that persuaded BJ to take him to the New Year party was the news and the present that they prepared for the kids.

"May I have your attention please?" Colonel Potter stepped forward, "First of all, I want to say how glad we all are to have you back, Pierce. I must admit that you gave us quite a scare, son."

Touched by his CO's kind words, Hawkeye smiled.

"Second, I would like to thank Lieutenant Robinson for saving our Hawkeye, whatever you may say, son, you did save him."

Robinson blushed when he realized that the next wave of cheers was meant for him.

"And third…" Potter raised his glass, "Happy New Year, everyone!"

"Happy New Year!" the people in the tent echoed in unison.

"I think it's time to open our presents" said Potter when everyone dried their glasses.

This was the exact words Hawkeye longed to hear from the Colonel. He gave a sign to BJ, who nodded saying he was ready for the show, and tugged at Potter's sleeve.

"Let us make the first one, Colonel." he whispered.

Potter looked at his chief surgeon suspiciously before turning to BJ who was about to gain everybody's attention.

"Is it a practical joke Hunnicutt?" the Colonel whispered BJ's ear, "I don't think it is the right time even if we all missed them."

"We're absolutely serious, Colonel." BJ whispered back, "We have a present for our guests."

"All right then," the older man said, relief sounded clearly in his voice when he felt that BJ was telling the truth. "let's see what you've got."

Hawkeye smiled and looked at the people in front of him. These were his friends, his family. Though he did not remember the shelling and the accident well enough, the surgeon could still remember the fear he felt at the thought that he would die and not see them again. Soon Hawkeye's gaze passed to the children and he felt excitement spread through his body, giving him strength he missed so greatly. When BJ pulled out the document that was more than just a sheet of paper, but the thing that would save many innocent lives from cold and starvation, Hawkeye felt happier than ever before. No matter how frosty the Christmas had been, no matter how cold and tired they all were, these smiling little faces were all they needed to survive not only the severe Korean winter, but even the Ice-Age.

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**The End**


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